


The Divide

by Beedle18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Broken, Coming of Age, Divide, Djinni & Genies, Drama, Epic, Family, Gen, Hogwarts, Longbottom - Freeform, Love, McGonagall - Freeform, Neville - Freeform, OC, Post-Hogwarts, Quest, Ravenclaw, Siblings, Sisters, Squib, Twins, change, differences, harry - Freeform, life - Freeform, mission, muggle, potter, split, vector - Freeform, world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-07-06 02:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15876537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beedle18/pseuds/Beedle18
Summary: For most children from Muggle families, escaping to the magical world of Hogwarts is a dream come true. But what if Hogwarts ripped you apart from your beloved twin sister, who isn't a witch? And what desperate lengths would you go to be reunited? The story of Juliet and Jennifer Belstone and the bitter clash between the magic and non-magic worlds. Beginning in 2018. Hogwarts and far beyond. OCs and many canon characters.





	1. The First Letter

PROLOGUE

Both of us.

Once upon a time, we curled together in our mother's womb, two tiny hearts beating in tune. Now, we are perfect mirrors of each other: long dark hair, blue eyes. We walk in step and speak in unison whenever we choose. We feel sorry for our classmates: none of  _them_  are identical twins. They seem to think we're strange, but we don't care.

We're different from them in other ways, too, and we know it. Sometimes funny things happen around us. We call them our fairy powers, and they definitely aren't normal.

Here's an example. A few years ago at school, a great bullying slab of a boy called Gavin Hooker cornered us against the fence at the far end of the playground, out of the sight of teachers. Everyone knew he was a right violent nutcase and for whatever reason that day he was out to get someone; he had a seriously ugly look on his face. Before we could run, he'd shoved Jennifer against the fence with his arm. He was holding a box of matches. When he lit one, we both began to scream, but nobody was close enough to hear us. "You're  _freakish_ , you twins," Gavin spat, his lip curling. "I'm going to  _fix_  you. Everyone'll be able to tell you apart after this." He lifted the match close to Jennifer's right cheek as she struggled and shrieked, "Juliet! Juliet!"

Next thing we knew, Gavin let go, roaring with pain. The match had  _jumped_ : wriggled like a little wooden snake out of Gavin's fingers and sprung off his hand at his face, just missing his eye. As he stumbled away in oafish terror, Jennifer picked herself up and we looked at each other, eyes sparkling. It was our fairy power again. It only surfaced occasionally, but it was there.

We knew we were special, and we kept it secret. Everything was perfect this way, until the first day of August. Our eleventh birthday.

* * *

_August, 2018._

Jennifer

Before our alarm clock beeped, I opened my eyes. Juliet had just opened hers and we smiled at each other.

"I love our birthday being in the holidays," I said, throwing off my covers.

Juliet jumped out of bed too and rummaged in our sock drawer, pulling out our favourite purple and green socks and throwing me a matching pair. "Yeah, those poor kids who have to spend their birthday in  _school._ "

"I know, right!" We finished pulling on our clothes in the same moment, as always, then ran downstairs. There was a warm, spicy smell wafting from the kitchen, and we came in to find Mum making coffee and Dad reading his Sunday paper.

Dad laid down his paper. "Happy birthday, girls."

"Thanks, Dad! What's that amazing smell?"

"Your mother's been busy baking something special for your birthday," Dad said. "I'm glad you're awake, I wasn't allowed one before you came down."

Mum carried over a heavily laden tray. "It's terribly unhealthy so you aren't getting it again before next year, mind."

"Wow, Mum..."

Freshly-made cinnamon buns and thick hot chocolate to dip them into! It was sunny outside, not hot chocolate weather, but Mum knew it was our absolute favourite thing. We didn't often get treats like this, as though Mum was a great cook, she was a bit of a health nut too.

"This makes an exceptionally pleasant change to Weetabix," said Dad, helping himself to a hot bun as Mum poured herself black coffee.

I took a large bite of bun and Juliet sipped her chocolate ecstatically.

"This is brilliant." I paused, my eyes meeting my twin's. "So...when can we open our presents?"

"Who says you've got any presents? Children only get presents up to the age of ten. After that they give their hardworking parents presents instead, as payback for the previous ten years," said Dad solemnly from behind his paper.

"Da-ad..." we chimed, in unison.

Dad grinned, then reached behind the toaster and pulled out two sparkly bags. "All right, here you go..."

"Juliet, look!" squeaked my sister as we each pulled out a little package.

My heart beat fast as I felt the present inside its wrappings, daring to hope. They were just the right size and shape; and we'd wanted them for  _years._ We ripped off the wrapping paper in the same moment and two sleek mobile phones fell into our laps.

"Yes! Awesome!" we said together, and high-fived.

"We thought they would be useful when you girls go to Greenhill Academy in September," said Dad, with a little smile.

"You can't play with them  _all_  day," said Mum, sipping her coffee. "We're going to have a birthday picnic on the beach, remember! It's lovely weather, should be warm enough to swim. Phones off then, yes?"

"Yes, Mum..." We both took enormous gulps of hot chocolate as we switched our phones on. My screen lit up and I wriggled in my seat in anticipation. I could feel Jennifer wriggling next to me.

 _Tap-TAP_. The sudden loud noise made us all jump.

"What was that?" said Mum, alarmed.

_Tap. TAP-TAP!_

Startled, all of us turned to look at the kitchen window.

"What the devil -" said Dad, in amazement.

On the window ledge was a large tawny owl with a letter clamped in his beak, tapping impatiently at the glass.

Juliet looked at me, bewildered, and I knew I looked just as baffled.

 _TAP! TAP!_ The owl shook his head, jerking the letter at us. His meaning couldn't have been clearer, and at last, Mum shook her head weakly and started to move towards the window.

"Don't let it in, love!" said Dad, alarmed. "It could be dangerous - it could have rabies."

"Don't be silly," said Mum, undoing the latch and tugging at the window, which was stiff as we rarely opened it. "Someone's obviously trained it to deliver letters, so it's evidently tame. And why would they tame a rabid owl?"

"But -"

The window flew open suddenly and Dad jumped up, stumbling backwards, as the bird immediately fluttered in in a whirr of wings. It landed heavily on the kitchen table, dropped the letter, clacked its beak at us (in a way that clearly said "finally!"), and flew off before any of us really knew what had happened.

"Wow..." breathed Juliet. "How cool was that?"

Blinking rapidly, Dad shook his head and picked up the letter, which had fallen face-down on the table. The envelope was thick, yellowy and discoloured, and on the back was a dark red wax seal. He turned it over and looked down at it for a moment. Then he slid it across the table, eyebrows raised.

"Well, now - it's for you, girls."

It was addressed to:

 _Miss J. Belstone_ _  
_ _The second bedroom,_ _  
_ _33, Mill Lane,_ _  
_ _Briar's Wood,_ _  
_ _Mucklebridge,_ _  
_ _Devon_

Juliet picked it up and I reached out to feel the thick paper with my fingertips. "This is bizarre," I said. "Is this some kind of mental birthday surprise, Dad? Are you acting? Did you hire a tame owl?"

Dad shook his head, "I did not! But maybe you have an eccentric relative none of us knows about. Who breeds owls. And, er – gets them to deliver birthday cards." He sipped his coffee, bemused.

Juliet slid her finger under the flap and opened it halfway, then passed it to me to finish. "This is the strangest birthday card we've  _ever_  had," she said.

I tore the rest of the flap, tugged out the parchment inside and flipped it open. Juliet leaned in close to read it with me.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin (Third Class)_

_Dear Miss Juliet Belstone,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a prestigious school for young people with magical abilities. You will most likely have already noticed these abilities surface, in some form or another. At Hogwarts you may expect to develop, refine and control these magical powers, and learn everything necessary to assimilate yourself later into the wizarding community._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment and some more essential details about Hogwarts School for your parents. Term begins of 1st September. Information on where to purchase your school supplies and uniform, and how to get onto the school train, will be sent out once an affirmative answer has been received._

_Please reply by owl tomorrow. If a reply is not received, you may expect a visit in person._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Headmistress_

Silence. Absolute silence. I gripped the letter so hard it nearly tore. The list of books and equipment fell out and Juliet picked it up wordlessly and read it, while I scanned the letter again, stunned.

_Dear Miss Juliet Belstone..._

We had, we all had, just assumed the letter addressed Miss J. Belstone, was for us both. People had often addressed letters to both of us this way.

But this – this was all wrong. There was a ringing in my ears and I gazed blankly down at the letter, feeling my whole world drop away in that moment.

Dad had read the letter over my shoulder, blinking very fast, and now he tugged it from me and held it out to Mum, who read it through very carefully, swallowed, and then looked at my sister in utter astonishment. For a moment, it was as though I wasn't even there.

From far away, it seemed, I heard Juliet stammer, "I – I don't understand!"

Oddly enough I  _could_  understand...at least one thing. The letter was obviously authentic. The heavy wax seal hadn't come from a joke shop, it was too detailed to be a hoax, and it had been delivered by an owl, for heaven's sake. Besides...we always knew we were special. We knew we had fairy powers. And now here was an offer of a place at a school, a school of  _witchcraft and wizardry_...but...

At last I looked over at my sister, my reflection, my other half. My insides were clenched in a tight knot: fear and confusion clawing at my gut. Juliet seemed stunned, her mouth slightly open, her lips dry.

Eventually I tore my gaze away to stare out of the window; the owl was long gone. Now, panic was rising in my chest, and I heard myself speak as though in a dream.

"Where's  _my_  letter?"

"Jennifer –"

I interrupted her, breathing shallowly. "This is yours," I said, a catch in my voice. "Where's  _mine_?"


	2. The Second Letter

_August, 2018._

Juliet

No one answered.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Mum read from the letter, sounding completely floored. "This is some kind of joke..."

"It's not," I said quietly.

"But, Juliet," Dad said, running his hand through his hair, "This letter says you're a  _witch!_  Of course it's a joke - it  _has_  to be a joke!"

"It's not a joke," said Jennifer. My sister had gone very pale, her eyes shining strangely. "We have – we have powers. We can do stuff that's not  _normal_."

I knew we were both seeing the wriggling match in Gavin Hooker's hand, the wood contorting grotesquely as it struggled free.

"Powers? Rubbish! Like  _what_? And don't say magic, there just isn't such a thing, you know there isn't! This is some kind of hoax."

Dad's a bank manager. He's very intelligent, but he's a practical chap. After a pause, Jennifer related the story of Gavin and the match and I explained about the mysterious way we had escaped from the beech tree.

"We've known for ages," I said earnestly. "We thought they were fairy powers. Honestly, Dad."

Mum and Dad looked at each other for a very long time, then at us both. Dad took a deep breath.

"Okay, " he said eventually, although I could see he still wasn't fully convinced. "Okay. Well! A witch! Right then. Excellent. What are we supposed to do about – about  _this_? We await your owl – we're supposed to reply by owl? Well, that's easy! I'll just nab one from the woods! For goodness' sake." He gestured helplessly at the letter. "And as you say – where  _is_  Jennifer's letter?"

"I'm a witch too," Jennifer said in a small voice, clearly on the brink of tears. "My letter must have been lost – it  _must_  have!"

"Yeah, mine was delivered by an owl, that's not reliable!" I chipped in. "Yours could've dropped it, or got lost – or hit by a drone – or eaten by, well, whatever eats owls..."

"I'm sure we'll find out," said Mum briskly. Oddly, she seemed to be processing the news much better than Dad and gave me a funny little look, as though she knew something I didn't. "Let's give it twenty-four hours before jumping to conclusions, shall we? I'm sure your letter is on its way, Jennifer. Let's get ready for our picnic, and maybe yours will arrive this evening or with tomorrow's post."

Jennifer gave a little smile, slightly cheered by everyone's optimism.

We cleared up the breakfast things in thoughtful silence and Mum gathered together the picnic food. We both tried to put our new phones in our pockets but Mum put her foot down – "Oh no, not at the picnic, girls! You can play with them later."

Thirty minutes later we were climbing down the steep cliff path to our favourite beach, a hidden cove not many people knew about. We built a giant sand tortoise together, then threw ourselves into the sea, which wasn't too cold after the long, hot summer. Splashing amongst the waves, we almost forgot about the letter for a little while.

After we'd eaten the picnic food Mum actually produced a birthday cake from the bottom of the basket, and candles, although the wind kept blowing them out for us so we couldn't make a proper wish. I caught Jennifer's eye on the third attempt. She looked a little pink and flustered. I knew what she wanted to wish for, as it was the same thing I wanted. But Mum laughed and said she wasn't going to waste any more matches and so we cut the cake without wishing at all.

When we got home we saw immediately that there was no owl, no letter, and a little furrow appeared in Jenifer's forehead. We didn't mention it that evening. But she played very quietly on her phone that evening and I stared at mine, not really seeing it at all. Tomorrow there would be a letter. There  _had_ to be...

Breakfast next morning was a little strained. Dad always left early for the bank so he was gone before we got downstairs. Mum works from home, illustrating children's books, so was in the kitchen getting breakfast for us. She watched us both anxiously as we poured cereal and milk into our bowls, neither of us speaking. Jennifer's and my eyes flicked constantly towards the window where the owl had appeared yesterday.

Nine o'clock and we put down our cereal spoons in unison, our eyes drawn to the window again...and this time, my heart caught in my throat. Jennifer made a strangled noise beside me. A speck had appeared in the sky, zooming closer towards us...a bird, a large bird –

"It's another owl!"

We both dived for the window. Jennifer's fingers slipped on the catch and I had to help her. We threw it open just as the owl reached us, soaring into the kitchen in a flurry of magnificent tawny feathers. He skidded across the table, and Jennifer, laughing, flushed with excitement, ran to him.

And stopped dead. The owl wasn't holding a letter in his beak and he was looking at me. Not Jennifer, but me. And holding out his leg expectantly.

"Wh-what does he want?" I stammered, looking at Jennifer, and Mum.

Jennifer looked completely stunned. Then, without a word, she turned and walked rapidly out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a snap.

"Hey, Jennifer –  _Jen!_  Wait!" I started after her, but Mum caught my arm.

"Leave her for a minute, Juliet," she said quietly.

I struggled. "Let go!"

" _Wait_ , darling. I think this owl needs an answer, don't you? We need to write and tell this school – this Hogwarts – that we've got the letter and you'll be going."

I glared at her and wrenched my arm free. "I'm going to find Jennifer. You write to this McGonagall woman. Ask her where Jen's letter is. If she's not invited, I'm not going."

And I stalked out of the kitchen, as Mum sighed and reached for some paper and a biro.

* * *

I'll never forget the few days which followed the second owl. The worst thing was that for the first time in my life Jennifer couldn't talk to me for those few days while my Hogwarts letter lurked in the corner of the kitchen, like a sinister creature crouching there, silent and cruel. She turned her face to the wall each night as I whispered, pleading, "Jen...please, let's talk about this...we still don't know that yours hasn't been lost." I always knew that she was lying awake, too.

I didn't bother to ask what Mum had written in her reply to the McGonagall woman. I wasn't going to this Hogwarts place without Jennifer, even if it meant living like a non-witch forever. I didn't care. I would have my twin sister, and that was all I wanted.

Dad still seemed to be ruminating deeply on the new situation. The concept of magic was something he was struggling to get his head around. I could tell he wasn't going to accept it fully until he had visual proof. He kept shooting me thoughtful glances, and giving his head a little shake. Mum, on the other hand, after the initial shock, seemed to be taking it in her stride.

A couple of days later when we were all sat in the living room she said quietly to me, "Juliet, we'll need to think about getting you your school things before the first of September. There was a list, but I don't know where –"

I cut her off abruptly. "I'm not going."

Dad lowered his paper just a little, listening. On the other side of the room Jennifer's forehead was kinked and she wasn't looking at either of us.

"But –"

" _I'm not going_. Jennifer's a witch too, that's obvious from the times we've accidentally used magic. I'm not going to any school that picks and chooses like that and would try a dirty trick like splitting up sisters – not just sisters –  _twin sisters_! What sort of an awful place is that? Either that or they've just made a stupid mistake. If they want to take me, they just have to offer Jen a place too, else I'm staying here."

It was the longest speech I'd made since my letter arrived. Mum fell silent and exchanged a worried glance with Dad across the room. I saw Jennifer's mouth twitch into a tiny smile.

That night, for the first time in three nights, Jennifer didn't turn her face to the wall.

"Thanks, Juliet," she whispered, in the dark. I could see my face reflected in her eyes. I knew if I could magnify my reflection I would see her face in my eyes, and so on  _ad infinitum_... I reached across the gap between our twin beds and we hooked fingers together, like we used to do when we were little and making a wish.

"I meant it. I won't go unless they offer you a place."

"I know...and now we know, don't we, they aren't fairy powers, we're witches.  _Witches_ , Juliet! We can teach ourselves how to use this magic without going to any stupid school. I bet we can work it out...and we can Google it, there has to be something on the internet about all this, there's obviously other witches and wizards in the country and loads of stuff's going to have ended up online..."

We talked late into the night until our eyes grew heavy and we fell asleep, fingers still hooked together.

But when we walked down to the breakfast table I knew immediately something was wrong. Mum was clutching a piece of parchment in her hand and one glance showed me the discarded envelope on the table and the tawny owl perched on the chair chewing up a piece of Weetabix. The look Mum gave us as we walked in the room – anxious, scared, pitying – stopped us both dead.

"What is it, Mum?  _Mum_? _"_

"Oh, darlings," she said tremulously. "I'm so terribly sorry. This is the most awful – I don't know how to tell you." Her voice shook uncontrollably and then she thrust the parchment at us, saying, "Try to understand. You'll have to read it. Just –" but she trailed off.

I took the parchment, and scanned it quickly. As I read, nausea and dizziness overcame me and I sank into the nearest chair. Jennifer remained standing, her face white.

_Dear Mrs Belstone,_

_Thank you for your reply and your enquiry into a possible place at Hogwarts for your second daughter, Jennifer Belstone. However, I am sorry to tell you that we have no record of a second witch in residence at your address._

_I appreciate that this would appear to be a delicate situation and an unusual one as you say the girls are twin sisters. However, our records are never wrong: there is only one magical person living with you. It is my painful duty to inform you that your daughter Jennifer cannot, therefore, be a witch, and as such we cannot offer her a place at the school._

_You detailed two circumstances of magical activity in which both girls were involved; however, I would suggest that each magical outcome was the sole work of Juliet Belstone._

_I understand from your letter that Juliet is reluctant to attend Hogwarts without the company of her sister. This does present certain complications which will be better explained in person._

_I will call at your residence this evening at six o'clock to discuss this further._

_Kind regards,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_ _  
_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Jennifer didn't speak. Nor did I for several long, terrible minutes as we digested the contents of the letter.  _The sole work of Juliet Belstone..._ Making that lit match wriggle out of Gavin's fingers – getting us both out of that tree when we were going to fall – it was me. Not we. Just me.

A funny rasping sound made us all turn our head. The owl, which I'd forgotten about, was choking on its dry Weetabix.

I ignored it, took a long, deep breath, then held the letter out at arm's length and dropped it on the kitchen floor. I deliberately trod on it as I walked out. Jennifer stayed behind, still as a statue, and for the first time ever I was glad she wasn't with me. I didn't know how to meet her eyes.

I just couldn't take it in. For eleven years we had grown up together as one person, needing no other friends. Her body was mine, every lock of dark hair, every fingernail, down to the tiniest freckle on our pale skin. And now these poisonous letters came pushing their way into our perfect twin lives to say that Jennifer and I were fundamentally _different._

I paced up and down our bedroom for what seemed like hours, then abruptly got into bed and pulled the covers over my head. It made a den, a space where I could be alone with my whirlwind of thoughts. All the time I knew Jennifer was downstairs, and as though our brains were intrinsically linked I felt her emotions coursing through me like a powerful drug. Pain, hurt, humiliation, denial. Fury. But most of all fear. After a while, exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep.

A long time later I woke suddenly and knew from the golden quality of the sunlight filtering into our bedroom that it was late afternoon, and checked my phone. Eighteen minutes to six. My stomach gave a horrible jolt. This McGonagall woman was going to be arriving in less than twenty minutes.

Still, I was the tiniest bit curious to see what a real, adult witch looked like. I got up slowly and smoothed down my long hair, gnawed off a hangnail, then steeled myself and opened the bedroom door. I felt groggy after my long afternoon sleep and lightheaded from lack of lunch, but also slightly sick. I knew I was going to have to fight my corner in a bit and I didn't feel physically up to it at all.

I entered the living room to find Mum and Dad already there, waiting tensely. Dad would have been home from the bank for only thirty minutes or so but I could see he had been fully updated. Jennifer was there too and we gave each other a long look that spoke volumes. We were ready to battle. I walked across the room and stood by her side, and we held hands tightly. Dad gave a little sigh as he looked at us.

"Girls, girls," he said, softly. "Don't make this harder than it already is..."

Neither of us replied. We were watching the clock's hands inch steadily closer to six o'clock, every nerve taut with waiting. And yet we still all jumped when the doorbell rang shrilly.

Mum bustled out of the room, looking decidedly nervous. It wasn't every day a witch came to the house, after all.

A murmur of voices, then Mum was back in the living room, followed by a very tall woman in black robes and a long purple cloak, with a pointed hat in her hand. Her greying hair was scraped into a very tight bun, and she wore a brisk, but kind expression as she looked around the room and settled her appraising gaze on me. I couldn't help it – I blinked.

The witch nodded briefly to each of us in turn. "Good evening."


	3. The Headmistress

_August, 2018._

Jennifer

Professor McGonagall's gaze flickered briefly over me – pitying, I thought, then a second later I was forgotten. She turned to my sister.

"Juliet, I presume," she said.

Juliet opened her mouth to protest – how could she possibly know which of us was which? No one ever could, and even Mum and Dad got us mixed up all the time. But Professor McGonagall seemed to anticipate Juliet's question and said kindly, "Magic always leaves a trace, Miss Belstone."

We glanced at each other, unsettled for a moment, then Juliet frowned and seemed to gather herself together, ready to launch into a speech.

"B-before you waste any time on me, Miss," Juliet began, stammering as she looked up into the teacher's strict face. She took a deep breath and the rest came out in a rush: "I'm  _not_  going to Hogwarts, I expect you don't understand what it is like unless you're a twin too, which most people aren't, but anyway, it's not fair! It's not  _fair_  that I'm a witch and Jennifer's not! And I'm not going to some stupid school miles away and leaving her behind. It would be like leaving half of  _me_  behind, and I won't do it. This whole thing is just – just rotten and wrong, and – and you can't make me."

I felt a warm rush of love for my sister, sticking up for me like this. I squeezed her hand and spoke up, quietly.

"She's right, it's not fair. And how  _can_  only one of us be magic anyway, Professor, it doesn't make sense, we're  _identical twins._  We're exactly the same, that's biology! If you make Juliet go she'll run away, or I'll run away to find her. And you can't  _make_  her go, anyway."

McGonagall said nothing, just looked at us both with an expression I couldn't bear. Understanding, and kind, but without a flicker of agreement; and I knew that this wasn't over. I felt Juliet grip my hand even more firmly. We didn't look at each other but her thoughts, the same as mine, seemed to come through as clearly as if our minds were connected with wires.

" _Always, always, always together..."_

"I – I made a pot of tea just now," said Mum, going to the door. "I'll pour us all a cup. I think we all need to calm down and talk things through."

"We do indeed," said McGonagall firmly as Mum hurried out. "It's a little more complex than you think, girls, I'm afraid to say. Not as black and white as all of us would wish it were: I'm sure you'll have a different perspective after I have explained everything."

Mum came back in carrying a tray laden with teapot, cups and a plate of flapjacks and handed me and Juliet full cups of tea before we could refuse.

McGonagall accepted a cup too and sat down in the armchair Dad pulled out for her.

"Thank you, Mr Belstone. Well, I won't beat around the bush. I mentioned in my letter that there would be certain complications arising from any refusal to take up the place at Hogwarts offered to you, Miss Belstone." I opened my mouth but she held up her hand and said firmly: "Please allow me to explain first, and reserve any questions until I have finished. Firstly, as to your theory that identical twin sisters ought to both be born witches: yours is an unusual situation, but it is not without precedent. Magic is inherited – somewhere in your ancestry there will be a witch or a wizard. But magic is not a scientific force, quite the opposite in fact, and it does not follow the same rules as your...I believe you call it...'DNA'. It would simply appear in this case to, most unfortunately, have presented itself in just one of you: Juliet."

My jaw clenched. I looked at the floor as McGonagall said calmly, "Yet Miss Jennifer Belstone is correct in saying that you have no  _legal_  obligation to attend Hogwarts School and that we certainly cannot make you take up your place. However, there  _is_  a law, which has been in effect for many years, that every witch and wizard between the age of eleven and seventeen in Great Britain must receive a form of magical education for the duration of these years. This is for their own and others' safety."

She took a sip of tea, looking piercingly at me. "Magic is a powerful force, and when not harnessed properly it can be exceedingly dangerous – ruinously so. Terrible things have happened to children who were not taught to control their powers. Suffice it to say that ninety years ago the Ministry of Magic decided the risk was too great, and passed legislation which made it compulsory to receive a proper magical education. If parents wished to home-school their children, this was permitted, with support from governmental education committees to ensure that certain standards were met."

"But –" interrupted Mum, "Surely you aren't suggesting Peter and I home-school Juliet. We aren't...how..."

"Quite so," sighed McGonagall. "Muggle parents – by this I mean non-magical parents, of course – simply do not have the option of home-schooling. They must, therefore, send their child to a wizarding school. Now as I said you are correct in saying we cannot force you to go to Hogwarts, Miss Belstone, but it is quite the best magical school in the country – and I'm sure you will love it there, once you adjust to the – er – different circumstances..."

Juliet slammed her undrunk tea down so hard it slopped all over the table. "I will  _not_  love it and I am NOT going," she said furiously. "I already told you!"

" _Juliet_ ," Mum hissed, "Mind your manners..."

But McGonagall looked unruffled. "You do not have to go to  _Hogwarts,_  Miss Belstone. But you must receive some form of magical education, as I have just explained. There are other – institutions," she said, her nostrils pinching in distaste. "Hogwarts is not large enough to take every child with a spark of inherited magic within. But these schools are - how can I say this kindly – very poor places in every way. They receive very little Ministry funding because the standards are so low. The students they teach have very little magical ability, some are barely more than Squibs, and the education they receive is no more than the most rudimentary training. Oh, there might be the odd one, a witch or wizard of good magical stock whose parents wish to have them closer, so they can live at home instead of boarding. But on the whole they just aren't the kind of school any witch or wizard  _wants_  to go to. And when you have a place at Hogwarts, you'd be quite mad to turn it down in favour of, to name just two prime examples, Axbridge Academy of Wandwork, or Selburton Spell School. And I'm afraid to say that as it happens, the nearest other magical school to your place of residence is still a fair distance away; you would have to board there, also."

"Juliet's not  _turning down Hogwarts_  just because she'd prefer another rubbish magic school," I said rudely, thinking that McGonagall was being very dim-witted.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I know, child. I know. But Juliet must choose a school. Otherwise the Ministry of Magic will be forced to step in."

Dad had been very quiet so far, munching on his flapjack, but clearly considering every word very carefully. He coughed suddenly at this and swallowed the last few oat crumbs. "Excuse me.  _Step in_  how? What other course of action would this – Ministry of Magic – be proposing for my daughter?"

McGonagall closed her eyes briefly. "As I explained, Mr Belstone. It is highly –  _highly_ – dangerous, for a young witch or wizard to receive no magical training. As they grow, without proper direction, they will find magic spilling out of them when excited or stressed, which would inevitably draw attention from the Muggle community. This, the Ministry cannot allow, as it risks exposing the rest of the magical community. It would violate our most critical magical laws. The Ministry would have to make sure any child who refuses to be educated is – how can I say this –  _safely contained_  – and they would take appropriate action to ensure this happens. We work very hard to conceal ourselves, Mr Belstone, for  _everyone's_  benefit – I am sure as an educated man you will have heard of the witch-burnings in Britain in medieval times, and of the Salem witch trials in the United States of America. No, we simply cannot have children running amok with their magical powers. And the other possibility is far worse. You see, magical education is crucial not just for the safety of the wizarding world, but for Juliet's own protection and well-being. If Juliet were to try to contain her powers, and live as a Muggle, she might find that they start to control her, to explode outwards in an unstoppable force. It can be indescribably destructive, and -" McGonagall hesitated "- quite often fatal."

My heart had been sinking lower and lower for the duration of this woman's speech and I could see Mum, Dad and Juliet all looking utterly horrified as the impact of her words sank in.

"So what you are saying," Dad quietly summed up, with his eyes closed and his hand pressing his forehead: "Is that if Juliet doesn't go to school to learn to become a – a trained witch – she will be shut away by a squad of powerful wizards to prevent her accidentally exposing your world to ours – and to save her from herself...or she could die."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "She wouldn't be shut away in Azkaban, of course...the wizard prison," she added, as we all looked blankly at her. "But she would be taken to some other safe and comfortable enough institution where the Ministry could keep an eye on her magic as she grows and be ready to...step in...if necessary. But – surely – you see now, that all this is just theoretical, and really, a quite  _ridiculous_  eventuality? It is what  _would_ happen if Juliet refuses to go to any magical school. But it is completely unnecessary, because to avoid it, all she has to do –"

"- is to accept the place at Hogwarts," I finished, flatly.

Juliet's eyes were huge, next to me. But after a pause, she spoke up too, bringing the whole conversation to its logical conclusion. "Because if I don't, these Ministry people would come – and we'll just be split up anyway."

There was a very long silence.

"So you see, Miss Belstone," said McGonagall at last, addressing us both with that same expression of kindly pity. "It is not the solution either of you wish for, evidently – but you can see that it is the best. And you can see each other  _every_  holiday."

Neither Juliet or I were stupid, and it was quite clear that McGonagall had won. We were eleven-year-old girls. We couldn't fight a squad of Ministry witches and wizards come to drag Juliet away and shut her up. Mum and Dad weren't magic, they'd never stop them, either. I doubted very much Juliet could hide – it seemed to be very easy to track witch children, somehow, as my sister's current whereabouts had shown up on some magical register.

I knew what Juliet was thinking, because it was what I'd feel if our places were reversed. If I had to be educated away from home, I'd pick the proper school, not some awful institution for barely magical children and people with weirdo parents.

"So," said Juliet, so quietly I could barely hear her, "So. I'm going to Hogwarts."

Her blue eyes met mine for a long moment, and I could see her fury, which matched the slow anger curling inside me.

As Professor McGonagall, Mum and Dad gave sighs of relief and began to discuss some practical aspects of the school, Juliet whispered to me, "Stuff their whole rotten system. Fine, they won this one, but I'm not giving up, you know."

"Me either," I whispered back. " _Never_."


	4. Diagon Alley

_August, 2018._

Juliet

"Well, I'll say goodbye," said Professor McGonagall, drawing her cloak around her shoulders. "Do you mind if I return to Hogwarts by Floo? I took the liberty of connecting your house to the network for the evening. I wouldn't have been so rude as to come in this way, of course..."

Mum and Dad stared at her, nonplussed.

"If I could travel back via your fireplace, I mean to say?" McGonagall clarified.

"Oh," said Dad. "By all means. Why, er - I mean, why not."

"Thank you. It's more convenient than Apparating to Hogsmeade."

She lit a fire with a jab of her wand and threw some glittery green stuff onto it from a box in her pocket which made the flames leap up, now bright green. Then as calmly as getting on a bus, McGonagall stepped into the fireplace, and vanished with a cry of "Hogwarts School!" The roaring green flames disappeared, leaving only a pile of warm ash.

Mum laughed nervously. Dad ran a hand over his face then rubbed his forehead very hard.

Jennifer and I had stayed in our corner, still numb with shock, watching McGonagall leave. So, I was going to Hogwarts. Obviously, I didn't want this magical power exploding out of me and hurting loads of people, or accidentally killing myself. But I wasn't going to let a bizarre thing like this tear me away from my twin, the other half of myself. Somehow I would find a way to get Jennifer to Hogwarts, too.

Dad was stooping over the fireplace. Some of the glittery green stuff McGonagall had thrown into the fire was scattered on the hearth, and he pressed a finger into it, examining the sparkling powder closely. "Incredible," he muttered. "Who'd've thought..." He brushed the flecks of powder into the fire, which was still burning away, and the flames turned green and leapt higher just for a second or two. He shook his head then, after a long pause, turned to us, his face serious.

"Well, that's that," he said. "I can see you understand this McGonagall teacher's logic, hm? There's not really anything we can do about it."

"It's only a matter of miles, girls," said Mum, gathering up the tea things. " You'll be as close as ever really, you know you will. And you can text and call each other every day with your new phones!"

I knew Mum was trying hard to put a positive spin on things. She and Dad had encouraged us before to make other friends, not spend all our time in each other's company, and we hadn't listened. We'd grown closer and closer, the way two trees twine around each other when they are planted too near one another, never imagining one day we might be torn apart at the roots.

"And don't forget, it's only in term-time," added Dad when neither of us said anything. "You girls just need to get through a few weeks at your different schools and you'll be back together every holiday!"

I gave Jennifer a tiny smile. "Yeah, we will. And we'll text all the time, and we can send each other loads of photos. And Skype every evening."

That weekend we left the house early and Dad drove us to London to get my school things. I have to admit, I was curious – what would wizard shops be like? My school list was full of things I thought only existed in story books and films. A cauldron. Lots of strange-sounding textbooks. A  _wand_ , for heaven's sake.

Mum had brought McGonagall's instructions and we walked slowly along Charing Cross Road, looking for a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. As we squeezed past a horde of chattering Japanese tourists, I saw it. It was very obvious as it was sandwiched between a brand-new Marks and Spencer's, and an upmarket Italian restaurant. It was small and dirty and stood out like a sore thumb, its painted sign creaking in the wind.

I stopped walking but Mum, Dad and Jennifer marched right past it.

"Hey, wait! It's back here," I shouted and they turned back in surprise, looking at where I was pointing.

"We don't need to go to M&S, love," said Mum. "Or were you wanting to get one of their nice quiches for lunch?"

"Not M&S," I said impatiently, pointing. " _That_."

They stared, right between the two window fronts.

"Juliet, that's an alley full of rubbish bins," said Jennifer, as though I was completely bonkers, and I realised they honestly couldn't see it at all.

"Okay, that's weird," I said, already disliking the way magic was excluding my sister, like a deliberate affront. "Come on, it's here, trust me." I put my arm round Jennifer's waist and pulled her into the pub, Mum and Dad following. I looked around as we entered, a little creeped out by the dingy, claustrophobic space. It was crowded and a few people looked at us curiously as we came in, checking us out. They were all wearing robes and looked very different from the crowds of Muggles we'd just left behind us. I felt suddenly conscious of my jeans and t-shirt, and looked back at my family, but they didn't seem to feel any of the eyes on them. All three appeared to be squeezing past invisible rubbish containers, but they were frowning and looking around as though they couldn't hear the chatter around us. I shook my head and went forward, but hesitated when we reached the bar, unsure where to go next. The instructions mentioned a courtyard...

I caught the eye of the stooped, ancient barman, and he grinned at me. "Muggle family?" he said knowingly. Mum, Dad, and Jennifer all jumped and stared in his direction.

"Through here," he gestured, opening a little door that led into a tiny back yard.

"Thanks," I said gratefully, going through.

"This is really weird," said Jennifer, clearly unnerved.

"Could you hear them?" I asked.

"Yeah, it was like that little alley was full of people all around us...the sound kind of flicked on as soon as you dragged me in."

Interesting. Hopefully they would be able to see this Diagon Alley. It wasn't going to be fun acting as their guide dog all day, otherwise. I took McGonagall's instructions from Mum, tapped the correct brick, feeling a bit silly – but, seconds later, we were definitely in the right place.

"Wow!" breathed Dad, sounding awestruck, and from the way they were all looking around I could tell, with relief, they could see it all. It was, well, mind-blowing. A world away from the London shops just the other side of the wall. Like stepping back into the eighteenth century crossed with all the fairy tales Jennifer and I had read when we were younger. A crooked, cobbled street bustling with strange-looking people in colourful cloaks, traders calling their wares, owls swooping overhead. Shop windows crammed with peculiar magical objects. An apothecary displaying rat brains, bottles of what looked like blood, and sheaves of a scaly, bronzed leather whose label read " _Dragon skin: seven Galleons a square"_ (this made me feel faint – dragons?). A broomstick shop, then a violently-coloured, flashy joke shop called Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, a tiny wand shop...

My head span as I tried to take it all in, and Jennifer and I held hands all the way to the great white building at the far end of the street, Gringotts Bank. We'd been told to change our Muggle money there.

Dad smoothed down his hair and suit, then smiled excitedly at us. "A wizard bank! I've been looking forward to this. I wonder how similar it is to mine!"

It transpired that it was not at all similar. The bank Dad managed was a million miles away from this one. It was more like some kind of white marble palace, quiet as a library, and we were served by what could only be a goblin, with pointed ears, a crooked nose, and very shrewd eyes. Dad gulped and spoke in a voice rather higher than usual to the goblin, who gave us a clever, calculating look as he changed several twenty pound notes for huge gold and silver coins and some little bronze coins similar to but much heavier than two pence pieces.

We were all glad to get back out into the sunshine.

It was the strangest day of my life. I was measured for witch's robes, chose a cauldron, filled a bag with disgusting-looking ingredients which were apparently going to be for brewing potions. As instructed in my list of school supplies, I filled a bag with little bottles of ink and old-fashioned feather quills, though they looked silly and cumbersome.

"Do we have to have these?" I asked the witch behind the counter at the quill shop. "I mean, I have lots of normal pens at home."

The witch smiled, as though she'd heard this many times before.

"Muggle-born, I see. No, no, we use quills in the magical world...Hogwarts teachers will confiscate Muggle writing equipment if they see them."

This sounded ridiculously backward to me; but I could see Jennifer stroking a quill wistfully between her fingers, and so I paid hastily and we left the shop to search for a telescope, a set of scales, and a bookshop. Jennifer trailed behind me, saying very little but looking at everything longingly. Every shop we entered marked me as different. I started to feel physically sick the longer we spent there, as I felt Jennifer withdraw further into herself, but after several hours, thank goodness, we only had one thing left to buy: a wand.

We'd walked past the wand shop on our way to Gringotts – a small, dusty looking place – and found our way back to it quite easily. The sign above read "Ollivander's" in faded lettering.

The man who served me was very peculiar. He was evidently very old, with a shock of white hair and very pale eyes. His hands shook constantly, but he pulled out a few wands for me to try, muttering to himself as he did so and peering at me with his silvery eyes. It was unnerving to say the least, but the fourth wand I picked up ("Nine inches, ash and dragon heartstring, quite inflexible") fitted into my palm like it had always been there, and I felt a sudden heat flicker through my fingers. Sparks flew out of the end as I raised it, and Mr Ollivander nodded and smiled as he took it from me and wrapped it up.

"Very good, my dear. And now – how about this for your charming sister? Twin wands for twin girls!" he said. "Also nine inches, the wood taken from the same ash tree, core from a Welsh Green not a Hebridean Black, but close enough -"

I was staring at him, horrified, while he was talking, when finally Mum and Dad both cried, "Oh! Wait – " and Jennifer snapped rudely, "No, I won't be needing a wand, not today. Or ever."

Mr Ollivander froze in surprise, his hands on the second box. Jennifer's eyes lingered hungrily on it too, before the strange old man collected himself together.

"I see," he whispered, looking at us both very carefully. "Well, now. Well, well, well. I – am so  _very_  sorry..."

Jennifer had been trying so hard not to act jealous, that was obvious, and this was just too much. Her head was bowed as we left the shop with my new wand. I put my arm round her shoulders but a stab of pain went through me as she shrugged it off.

"Maybe it's time we went home," sighed Mum, steering us back towards the magical wall.

"Hold on five ticks," said Dad hurriedly. "I just want to get something. Have an ice cream or something and I'll be back in a minute." He waved us into a nearby ice-cream parlour and hurried off.

Mum bought me and Jennifer two huge sundaes, a sure sign she was feeling very sorry for us: she was so health-conscious that her usual 'treat' was yoghurt, dried apricots or an oat bar. Jennifer was still very quiet but rubbed the tears off her cheeks and looked slightly more cheerful as she licked strawberry jam and butterscotch sauce from her spoon.

"I'm so proud of you, Jennifer," said Mum gently. "You're taking this – well, not like a man, that's a very silly phrase. You're my brave girl."

She stroked Jennifer's hair and looked at me. "You too, Juliet. I know how hard it is for you both."

"You don't," I couldn't help firing back, and Mum looked pained. "But I know it's not your fault," I conceded, feeling a little bad at the look on her face.

Mum sighed. "Well, no. Although in a small way I rather feel that it is."

Jennifer and I looked up in surprise. "What d'you mean?"

Mum hesitated. "Well, it's only a guess. But you might as well know. I think it might be  _my_  ancestry that is responsible for whatever magical gene you've inherited. I had a great-aunt..." She shrugged. "I never knew much about her. My grandfather – her brother – wouldn't talk about her much. I only found out about her when I was looking through some old albums. She was at a family wedding and I'd never seen her in any pictures before. I noticed her because of her clothes – like these people." She gestured at the many witches and wizards in long colourful robes around us.

"I asked Grandfather about her, but he wouldn't tell me much, only that it was his younger sister and she was the black sheep of the family...in those days many working-class women were expected to leave school at fourteen and help with the housework, but apparently she'd gone off to some strange school and did all sorts of things that scandalised the family...he said she was – very peculiar and not like other children. Certainly not like him or my other great-aunt, Kathleen, their elder sister."

"You think she went to Hogwarts?" I said.

"Well – I've been thinking about it, and I think she probably did," said Mum. "When Grandfather died, I met her, you see. Not for long...she came to the funeral, but hung around right at the back during the service. She was wearing long green robes and at the after-service we all lit candles and she had trouble using the matches, I heard her asking someone to show her. She had to be about eighty-five so it makes sense...it must have been three quarters of a century since she'd lit a candle the non-magic way. My other great-aunt was there, of course, Kathleen...but she seemed to be deliberately snubbing her sister. I said hello to her at the end, but she was very nervous...she excused herself soon after and hurried off, but another funny thing was, I watched her go – and about twenty paces away, I doubt she realised I was looking – she turned on her heel and just disappeared into thin air. I thought I was going mad...told myself I'd imagined it. When you got that letter – well – I remembered her, and just wondered. If she was a witch that would explain a lot. Funny, I don't even know her name."

We sat there, digesting the story. It was really quite unpleasant. My great-great-aunt, shunned by her family for being a witch... and generations later Jennifer is passed over completely for being a Muggle, while I was forced to attend a school I had no desire to go to. All to keep the magical community safe from Muggle eyes. It was ridiculous, really. Why couldn't the two live side by side in peace? Would exposure really be so dangerous?

My thoughts were interrupted by Dad's return. "Here you are, girls!" he grinned, as he came into the ice-cream parlour, holding up both arms. He was clutching the handles of two cages each containing a small, sleek owl.

"Dad!" we both yelled. "Are these for us?"

"Of course they are, darlings," said Dad. "I know you can text each other, but your school list says students can bring owls – and I don't want you to be left out if all the others have them just because you're from a Muggle family. And won't it be fun to get letters by owl post? They're twins, of course."

We'd already spotted that. The two identical tawny owls were just beautiful: smaller than the owl who had delivered the Hogwarts letter, they each had glossy brown feathers, and deep, honey-coloured eyes.

"One's a boy and one's a girl," said Dad. "I asked, but I'm afraid they didn't have twin girl owls."

"Dad...they're beautiful," we said together, breathlessly.

Jennifer looked a little teary with happiness. I knew, after seeing me getting kitted out me with all my school equipment that Dad's present meant double to her. I let her choose her owl first. She gazed at them for a while, undecided, her face very close to the cages, and eventually one owl hopped along its perch to peer curiously at her. She stuck her finger in the cage and it nibbled it gently. She laughed. "This one," she said softly, unable to take her eyes off it.

"Let's see...that's the boy," said Dad, checking the label on the cage.

Jennifer stroked the owl's head with the tip of one finger and I picked up the other cage. My owl hopped and hooted at me happily and I felt a glow of pleasure. We'd never been allowed a pet as both Mum and Dad thought dogs and cats were a hassle, and messy. This whole witch business was changing everything.

"You'll have to think of names for them," said Dad, but Jennifer and I were way ahead of him. We were definitely thinking the same thing. We both loved the Greek myths and the names of a famous pair of twins, a god and a goddess, had sprung to mind immediately.

"Mine's Apollo," said Jennifer, happily, as I nodded my agreement. "And Juliet's is Artemis."

Carrying Apollo and Artemis with utmost care, we headed back through the wall, out of The Leaky Cauldron, and back to Muggle London.


	5. Parting Ways

_August 2018._

Jennifer

We had nearly a whole month left of the summer holidays, but with Juliet's departure for Hogwarts looming on the horizon it was like someone had turned the tap of time to full blast, the days flooding out uncontrollably.

It was all I could think about. Juliet being alone at Hogwarts; me being alone at Greenhill Academy. I didn't know  _how_ to be by myself, I'd never had to figure that one out. My stomach churned every time I thought about it.

I knew Juliet was getting more and more upset at the idea of leaving, every day. She had shoved her schoolbooks under her bed, along with her wand, cauldron and other bits and pieces. She told me she didn't care if she came to school knowing nothing about magic. The less she learned, the less different we would be. I wasn't sure about this logic, but I didn't question it too much. We didn't talk much about it at all, to be honest. Juliet and I were inseparable that August, and the only thing forefront in both our minds was the thing neither of us wanted to discuss, so we spent a lot of time simply in our room, sat close to each other: reading, drawing, playing on our phones, and feeding or stroking Apollo and Artemis.

One day Mum took us to the local shopping centre so that I could buy my new school shoes and uniform, stationery, and school bag. Mum, for the first time ever, let me choose a bag covered in shiny silver stars and the glitziest pencil case in the shop, which I picked up automatically – but they looked depressingly ordinary and somehow tacky, after seeing all the magical school stuff in Diagon Alley. It was just obviously plastic sequins and very non-magical glitter. Back home, I gloomily turned the pencil case over a few times in my hands, then shoved the whole lot at the back of our wardrobe.

As the end of August approached, I felt a deep and growing dread.

* * *

 

_September 2018_

Juliet

Suddenly, as though no time at all had passed, it was September. After a troubled night, I woke very early, about four a.m., a lead weight in my stomach, and saw that Jennifer's eyes had opened at the same moment. We looked at each other for a long moment, then we both turned away. A lump rose in my throat and for the first time since all this had happened, I cried, silently, until my pillow was sodden. Jennifer's duvet quivered as she sobbed, too.

When Mum came in a couple of hours later to wake me – I had to get the train from London at eleven o'clock and it was a long drive from Devon – she looked at our red-rimmed, puffy eyes and sighed.

"Oh, you girls..."

But there was nothing she could say, so she didn't even try.

I wasn't ready for this, I never could have been. Jennifer was starting school, too, today, so Dad was driving me to London while Mum would see her off to Greenhill Academy later that morning. We had to say goodbye right now.

Dad had packed the car last night with all of my school stuff, and I couldn't eat a bite of breakfast, so once I'd pulled on my school robes and Mum picked up Artemis' cage, that was it. Time to leave.

Jennifer and I crept towards each other and hugged, identical arms wrapped around identical backs, cheek to cheek, our long hair mingling...I breathed in her so-familiar sisterly scent, indescribably desolate. Neither of us let go, until after a long time, Mum gently pulled us apart and led me towards the door.

"Text me," whispered Jennifer, silhouetted against the drawn curtains so I couldn't see her face. "Promise you'll text..."

"Of course I will," I said as almost physical pain shot through my chest. "Every day. And on the train, and when I get there tonight...I promise..."

Then Dad was there, swallowing the dregs of a bitter black coffee and combing his hair with his other hand, and somehow we were in the car; I was twisting right round in my seat as he pulled out of our road, squinting up at our window, and Jennifer was framed against the glass, watching us go...I waved forlornly, and Dad turned the corner...we were gone...

Somehow, I found myself several hours later drifting through King's Cross Station with Dad as in a dream. It was easy enough to get onto the magical platform with McGonagall's instructions – any other time, if I'd been told I had to walk through a solid brick wall I might have found it mentally challenging, but today I just wandered miserably through as I'd been instructed, feeling Jennifer's painful absence by my side. I found myself staring at a long, scarlet steam train and innumerable crowds of wizard families and school children. The noise hurt my head: so much shouting and screaming, clanging train doors, and the screeching of dozens of owls.

Dad was looking at everything in amazement and great interest. It was a pity he wasn't the magical one in our family, as quite obviously he would have been in heaven here. I looked at the train in trepidation, holding back; but it was five minutes to eleven and Dad nudged me towards the nearest door.

"Better get on, darling," he said, and gave me a bear hug. "Send us all a message when you get there, okay? Text Jennifer's phone to let me and Mum know how you're getting on too. And maybe send Artemis over with a proper letter when you've settled in."

I nodded mutely, unable to speak. And before I knew what was happening, I was on the train and Dad was closing the door, blowing me a kiss and waving; the train was pulling away as the whistle blew, long and loud, and I was standing at the window clutching my trunk and Artemis' cage, then we turned the corner and Dad disappeared from view. It was really happening...I was going to be at Hogwarts in just a few hours. Suddenly, for the first time, I wasn't just thinking of Jennifer's absence. My stomach gave a funny lurch. I was going to a  _magical school_. I didn't know a thing about magic. What would my classmates be like? What if they hated me for being from a Muggle family? What if I seemed really, really thick to them? Well, I told myself I didn't care what they thought. I didn't want to be here anyway, I was trying not to become different from Jennifer...but still...somehow this logic, so certain over the summer, seemed feebler now I was on the Hogwarts Express, heading towards the unknown. I felt horribly unprepared.

"Oi, shove along, would you?" said an older boy rudely, as he walked up dragging a huge trunk. "You're blocking the way."

It was true, I was standing in the doorway to the corridor between the carriages, and I flushed, confused. "S-sorry," I stammered, letting him through, and eventually wandered down the train looking for somewhere to sit. A few people glanced up at me as I walked past, checking out their compartments. I really didn't want to have to share with anyone else – I didn't know how to make small talk. Jennifer and I had never needed any other friends and we'd always casually shunned any attempts at friendship from other kids. I'd never even thought about it much before. I squeezed past groups of chattering kids, avoiding eye contact, jumping at various bangs and puffs of smoke – they all seemed to have purchased stuff from the Wizarding Wheezes shop in Diagon Alley and were letting it off on the train where there were no teachers. A few people made rude remarks as I pushed past, and I annoyed an elder girl by accidentally treading on her foot ("fucking firstie," she hissed), but I just put my head down and hurried on, feeling more and more panicked.

Right at the end of the train, to my relief, I found an empty compartment and slid the doors closed behind me. It was much quieter, and I breathed easier, happier now I was alone. After carefully wedging Artemis' cage into the corner of the seat so she didn't rock too much – she'd been squawking indignantly as I'd stumbled and pushed my way along the length of the train – I finally did what I'd been wanting to do ever since I left Dad: pulled my shiny yellow phone from my bag and switched it on.

The screen flickered a bit and I frowned but after a while - Beep! Beep! Beep! It went mad, as Jennifer's texts streamed in - and the flickering settled enough for me to read them. She'd sent more than a dozen – that was definitely going to start eating into Dad's £5 'strictly for emergencies'! I read them all, and felt the homesickness sweep over me as I heard her voice in my head. Evidently as lonely as I felt, she was just chatting...telling me about her morning, breakfast, the journey to Greenhill Academy with Mum, describing her teachers and the classes she'd been to...her texts were long and full of detail, as though she couldn't bear for me not to know exactly what she was seeing and doing. Another two came through while I was reading. She must be texting in class, under the table...

The last one I opened simply read, " _i miss you_ ".

I quickly tapped back a long answer:

 _miss you too jen. The train is the worst. One girl called me a fucking firstie. wish i was at greenhill with you_.

The reply came quickly:

_the whole thing stinks. give them hell, juliet!_

This made me laugh. She must be joking. I wasn't planning to try hard to learn magic, but I wasn't the kind of person to give anyone hell. Or was I? I paused. Maybe she  _wasn't_  joking. I'd always been a pretty good student, Jen and I were always near the top of the class. We'd never been one to push the boundaries and act out. Other kids got into fights, and detentions, not us. But what did I owe Hogwarts, after all? Nothing at all. I tried to imagine myself as one of those back-of-the-class troublemakers who frustrated the teachers so much that sometimes they cracked and flung the whiteboard pen across the room...yelling for them to see the Head...

I smiled, leaning back in my seat...it had a certain appeal. I'd have to be careful though. Couldn't go getting expelled and carted off to the sort of institution I was avoiding in the first place.

I texted Jennifer back, " _maybe i will!_ "

She fired back a thumbs up and a big smiley face then a second, hurried text:  _teacher coming, got to go. text later and tell me everything! xx_

I replied quickly,  _of course! xx_

The screen flickered again, although it seemed to be working fine. Strange - it was so new. If it got any worse I'd have to get it checked out at a repair shop. I switched it off for now, to save the battery.

Artemis squawked again and I peeked into her cage, realising with surprise that she was hunched right at the back, head pushed miserably into her chest. I'd been in such a hurry to text Jen I'd not really looked at her all journey...

She chirped again, sadly, and my mouth dropped open as I looked at her - I knew at once the source of her misery. Poor Artemis, Dad had unthinkingly done the same thing to her when he bought me and Jennifer twin owls...and none of us had even considered that she and Apollo would be miserable being separated, just like we were!

"Oh, Artemis, I'm so sorry!" I whispered, horrified. I stroked her with one finger through the bars of the cage. "I didn't even think...but you'll see Apollo loads, you will, we're going to send each other letters all the time...you'll go there and he'll come here! Every day! It's not so bad, see? I'm much worse off...I won't see Jen until Christmas holidays..."

Artemis still stayed at the back of her cage but she did seem to understand. She lifted her head off her chest and nibbled my finger gently, as though to say she didn't blame me. Still, I watched her guiltily for a while.

"Anything off the trolley, dearie?" sang out a voice as my door slid open. A cheerful witch stood there, with a trolley piled high with peculiar-looking sweets and cakes. I was feeling a bit better after my catch up with Jennifer and realised I was starving after waking at four and skipping breakfast. Mum had loaded me up with ham sandwiches on wholemeal bread, fruit and home-made flapjack, but the stuff on the trolley looked pretty cool and the pasties smelt amazing. Dad had given me a bit of pocket money in wizarding coins... Slightly guiltily, glancing at the sandwiches, I bought a large pasty, a frog-shaped chocolate, and a packet of brightly coloured jelly beans. I loved jelly beans.

I tried to feed my abandoned sandwich to Artemis but she clicked her beak at me disapprovingly and eyed my purchases. "Oh, fine," I said, breaking my pasty in two and pushing the steaming chunk into her cage. It was full of what looked like spicy butternut squash. Artemis settled down to peck at it happily, getting crumbs and sticky flesh all over her beak.

The pasty and the frog-shaped chocolate were both good, but the beans were disgusting. The first two I tried were just weird – edible, but not at all enjoyable; a purple one that tasted strongly of lavender and a white one that was just chewy salt. The third one looked like it was probably chocolate, but I soon spat it out; it was mud – stinking, filthy mud. I pushed the bag away, feeling sick. I wasn't going to eat wizard sweets again in a hurry; why on earth did they make them so revolting? What was wrong with raspberry and lemon? I wished I had brought a bag of jelly babies or dolly mixtures from home...

The rest of the journey was uneventful and with no more texts from Jennifer, just boring. After what seemed like hours and hours – it was just getting dark – the train finally started slowing down. It gradually rolled to a halt with a loud hiss of escaping steam. My stomach lurched again and I peered out of the train windows into the inky-blue night. We were here.


	6. Hogwarts

_September, 2018._

Juliet

Okay, I'll admit it. Much as I hated Hogwarts already, the place itself was impressive. A huge castle surrounded by mountains, swathes of deep forest, and a massive lake which I and the other first years had to cross in tiny boats. We were guided by an absolutely enormous, frightening-looking man with a tangled black beard. It was an unreal experience. I shared a boat with three others: a boy with mousy hair and two Asian girls. One of them spoke to me when she joined me in the boat:

"Incredible, isn't it?" she said, pointing at the castle. "I've seen pictures of course, but it looks much bigger when you're actually here! This is  _so_  exciting!"

"Oh – right," I mumbled awkwardly, looking down at my feet instead of at her smiling face. Her smile died away when I didn't say anything else, and she didn't bother introducing herself after that. She and the other Asian girl and the fair-haired boy all chatted easily as we glided across the water and seemed to me to be best buddies already, spreading themselves out over the little wooden seats as though they had forgotten I was there. A sudden loud splash made both girls squeal.

"Ooooooh!" they said as a huge tentacle flipped curiously in the water by our boat, and the boy said enthusiastically, "Must be the Giant Squid! Dad said when he was here he was blown into the lake in a crazy storm during a Quidditch match – oh, he was a Chaser – thought he was drowned for certain, but the Squid saved him, flicked his broom onto the shore after him, too..."

 _"Wow..."_  breathed the girls.

I squashed myself into my corner, faintly embarrassed, feeling like a sack of potatoes someone had dumped there and forgotten about. I had no idea what they were talking about. What on earth was a Chaser, and Quidditch? And surely that wasn't  _actually_  a giant squid in the lake?

What with the supposed squid and the surrounding scenery, there was so much to take in as we approached the castle, I forgot about texting Jennifer until we were all inside the castle, and then it was too late. I'd have to message her later: Professor McGonagall was greeting us and explaining about a ceremony we had to go through with something called a Sorting Hat. It would be to find out which school House we'd be in, as, according to McGonagall, our House would be 'like our family' while we were here. Ha. As if.

McGonagall seemed to have heard my quiet snort as she eyed me beadily. "Miss Belstone, your name is one of the first on the list, so I suggest you tie your shoelace and get yourself ready."

My shoelace was indeed undone, but, remembering I was trying to be rebellious, I summoned up the best insolent stare I could manage and acted as though I hadn't heard. McGonagall raised her eyebrows and turned to open the great doors behind her, flicking her wand sharply at my feet as she did so. My shoelace whipped into a tight knot and I gave a soft 'oh!' of surprise. A few of the kids snickered. I couldn't help it – I blushed.

But I was soon distracted as I took in the Great Hall in front of me...it was enormous. Four long tables filled with students lined the hall, all craning to look at us. Some students waved at what were obviously older brothers or sisters. The teachers were seated at another table, surveying the room.

In front of the student tables was a little wooden stool on which was perched a filthy-looking hat: this thing we apparently all had to put on in front of everyone. Glancing round, I saw my future classmates all looked extremely nervous. I wasn't, not really. Who cared what house I was in? I wasn't sure why it was such a big deal.

Everyone seemed to be watching the hat, which, to my surprise, suddenly burst into song in a stuffy sort of voice.

I watched it, vaguely intrigued, as it warbled a long, rambling song about various Houses with odd names, but didn't really listen carefully. I was taking in the Great Hall, the hundreds of candles, and a group of pearly-white figures drifting around at the other end of the hall. I squinted, but couldn't see them properly...and there also seemed to be no ceiling, the room was open to the sky, which was dotted with stars and veils of light cloud which were slowly moving. I wondered what they did when it rained.

The song came to an end and the Headmistress cleared her throat as she unrolled a long piece of parchment. "I am now going to invite you, one by one, to be Sorted. Once the Sorting is completed we can all enjoy the start-of-year feast, which I'm sure you are all looking forward to. So, let us begin:  _Atherton, Mona!_ "

A small girl, trembling all over, walked to the stood and let McGonagall drop the hat onto her head. There was a long pause; nothing happened. Everyone was staring at her expectantly. Was she supposed to do something? But just as I was looking around to see if everyone looked as baffled as I felt, the hat suddenly yelled out:

" _Hufflepuff!_ "

Everyone was clapping, but there was a particularly loud clamour of applause and cheers from one of the tables, over which was hung long yellow banners decorated with badgers, and Mona Atherton hurried to the table and sat down.

" _Belstone, Juliet!"_  Blimey, I was up already, she hadn't been kidding. I came forward to the little stool. McGonagall dropped the hat over my head as soon as I sat down, and I stared into the darkness of the lining, feeling a bit silly, knowing everyone was looking at me. I wished the hat would get on with it. But next moment I jumped, then squirmed as the stuffy voice spoke  _inside my head._ I was only used to hearing one person's thoughts – my sister's - and didn't like that at all.

"Not fussed, are you?" said the little voice. "Couldn't care less, could you? Wish I'd get on with, it, do you? Well, I'll let it go...I can see you don't know what the Houses are, or maybe you'd take more of an interest. Let me see  _now...plenty_  of brains, though a reluctance, maybe to use them, silly, that...and loyalty, ah yes, and obstinacy too, and a desire to fight...fight what, my dear? Ah, well...but on the whole, to me you are best suited to RAVENCLAW!"

The last word was yelled out to the whole room, and I got up, blinking in the light, and joined the table that was cheering hardest, over which hung bright blue banners decorated with fierce-looking eagles.

"Well done!" whispered the girl I'd sat next to, who had a shiny Prefect badge pinned to her robes, and the next student came forward to be sorted.

" _Burbage, Octavia!_ " was put into Hufflepuff, while the fair-haired boy I'd shared the boat with, " _Curdew, James_ ", was pronounced a Gryffindor – to great cheering and foot-stamping from the table adjacent to mine, decorated in red and gold.

" _Delabole, Tamsin,"_ was the first to be sorted into Slytherin house, whose table was bedecked in green. Their banners were adorned with writhing silver snakes.

" _Finnigan, Fergus"_  became a Gryffindor...

It took a long time. A few more students joined our table: two girls, Susie Hibbert and Bethany Jones, and a boy, Lucas King. A tall girl with a disdainful expression, Uma Lestrange, was made a Slytherin. The Asian girl who was also in my boat, " _Ling, Tan Pei!",_ went to Hufflepuff..." _Longbottom, Alison_ " became a Gryffindor... " _Mee, Anna!",_ the other Asian girl, joined her friend in Hufflepuff...

My eyelids started to droop and I stopped noticing names, and when a few more students were made Ravenclaws I no longer clapped. I noticed several new students get particularly enthusiastic cheers; they were probably from some well-known magical family. If you didn't know anyone, like me, it got boring quite quickly.

Then I got a real shock. McGonagall, whose voice was getting hoarse, read out  _"Scamander, Lorcan!"_  and the blonde-haired kid went to Gryffindor, after a short pause. Next up was  _"Scamander, Lysander!"_ , another blonde-haired boy!

I'd been slouching in my seat but now I sat bolt upright and gaped over at the Gryffindor table, where the second boy was headed with a wide grin. I was oblivious to the rest of the Sorting ceremony. Two Scamanders? Twins! Identical, and I hadn't even picked them out on our way from the train to the castle, I'd been so self-absorbed. Hot anger engulfed me as I stared at them, the injustice of it eating into me like red-hot flames.

"You look like you want to join the Gryffindor table," said the Prefect girl next to me, following my furious gaze. "You don't want to do that...noisy, brainless bunch they are, full of themselves too..."

I tore my gaze away from the Gryffindor twins but didn't answer the Prefect, even though I knew that was rude. It was none of her business. Out of the corner of her eye, I saw her study me appraisingly for a little while before shrugging and looking back at the Sorting. I was still fuming. She clapped hard when McGonagall took the hat off  _Weasley_ - _Granger, Hugo_  and a shy-looking boy with very red hair joined the Ravenclaws, glancing over apologetically at the Gryffindor table as he did so. A red-headed older girl, obviously his sister, was looking very disappointed.

"Congratulations, all of you," said McGonagall crisply, as she rejoined the other teachers at the table. "And now, just a few words before we begin our feast: first, as many of you know, Professor Flitwick retired at the end of last year after many years of service to the school. Please welcome Professor Bell to the post of Charms teacher."

Professor Bell – a slender witch with hair pulled back into a practical ponytail, smiled and nodded at the students as they clapped politely.

"Next," continued McGonagall, "A reminder to older students, and a notice to new students, that while you are free to roam most of the Hogwarts grounds in your leisure time, the Forbidden Forest is  _strictly_ out of bounds to all of you. I ask you also to observe the nine-thirty curfew and be back in your common rooms after this time: I expect to see no Hogwarts students wandering the school after dark  _this_  year. Mr Filch has also kindly reminded me to tell you that all Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products are still banned from corridors and classrooms and are likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. Lastly, Quidditch try-outs will begin in the second week of term. I believe that is all you need know: so let us begin the feast, as your classes start at nine sharp, tomorrow!"

Food appeared as if by magic – what was I thinking, of course it was by magic – in the many dishes and tureens crowded onto the table. A wonderful smell of roasted meats, stuffing and vegetables filled the air, but I was so tired and fed up by now I didn't really think I wanted any food, and I was still watching the Scamander twins jealously. Sat next to each other, carelessly offering each other dishes of roast potatoes and little sausages wrapped in bacon, sharing a joke, talking and laughing...

I thought about texting Jennifer under the table and fingered my phone in my bag, but no, I didn't want any nosy Ravenclaws reading my private messages over my shoulder. I'd wait until I was in bed.

I picked at a piece of chicken and moved some peas around my plate until, at last, came the call for bedtime and the food scraps vanished from the golden plates. Students started clattering noisily off to their beds and I got up, looking round uncertainly. Where was I supposed to go?

The other first years were also looking lost, but the Prefect girl called us together in her clear, confident voice, then ushered us all up flight after flight of stairs, finally ascending a spiral staircase up a tower. Wow, this was a long way to go every night for bed.

We finally reached a door and pressed forward, but the Prefect girl didn't try to push it open. Instead she looked expectantly at the door knocker, which was in the shape of a bronze eagle.

As we all looked at it too, the knocker spoke in a silvery sort of voice:

" _Large as Hogwarts, but lighter than air, some wizards would say I am not really there, sun makes me bold and in darkness I die: what, say you, am I?"_

The Prefect girl smiled and looked at us expectantly. "Any of you get it?"

We gazed dumbly at her. "What are we supposed to do?" asked one of the girls, eventually.

"It's a riddle," said the girl brightly. "We have to answer one each time to get into the tower. It keeps our wits sharp, you see... So – large as Hogwarts, but lighter than air...some people would say it's not there, it thrives in sun but not darkness. Anyone?"

I felt exasperated...I just wanted to get to bed and text Jennifer. It was really late, now...she'd be wondering. There was a very long pause as we shuffled our feet and the girl smiled – patronisingly, I thought – and said, "You'll get used to them. They're easy after you've done a few. The answer to  _this_ one is –"

"The shadow," piped up the girl next to me, Susie Hibbert, suddenly. "The castle's shadow."

The Prefect smiled as the door swung open, revealing a large, airy common room with fluttery blue curtains. "Quite right. Dormitories are through that door –" she pointed at a wooden door next to a large white marble statue of a woman "- you first-year girls are the second staircase on the left, boys take the first right. Your things are up there already."

At long last, bed! I was exhausted – but looking forward to sending Jennifer several long texts before going to sleep, telling her everything. We climbed the staircase to a stone-walled room with six four-poster beds with blue hangings, where our trunks were neatly stacked along one wall. We were high, high up – I could hear the wind whistling around the towers...

It took a few minutes for us all to choose the bed we wanted. I ended up by the far wall, next to one of the three windows, whose glass rattled faintly in the wind. The other girls – Susie, who'd solved the riddle, Bethany Jones, and the other three (who I think were called Marion, Ivy and Astrid) - all chattered to each other sociably as they undressed for bed. I felt heat creep into my cheeks as they stripped to their underwear. I'm not a prude – well, I don't think I am – but I wasn't going to get half naked in front of a bunch of girls I'd never seen. And I didn't want to join in their chatter. I wanted to text Jennifer, and soon. I didn't have a watch, but it had to be nearly midnight now.

I pulled the hangings around myself and undressed, sliding under the blue coverlet. Then – finally – I pulled out my phone.

To my irritation, I realised the others were talking about me in whispers.

"What's with her?"

"Unfriendly, isn't she?"

"Maybe she's shy..."

"There's shy and there's rude, and she just seems rude." The owner of this voice, whichever of the other five girls, wasn't bothering to keep her voice down. I ignored them. I wasn't going to cosy up to them... Jennifer wouldn't like them either, stuck-up, prissy things. And that Susie, irritatingly smart.

I knew deep down I was being unfair, but I smothered these feelings and switched my phone on again, waiting impatiently for it to wake up.

But when it did, I immediately saw something was wrong. The screen flickered horribly, impossible to read, and I stared in horror as the phone starting vibrating in my hand, letting off a series of awful high-pitched beeps which rose to a whine like an angry mosquito...I shook it, frantically, as the girls' voices stopped in surprise.

"What  _is_  that awful noise?" cried one of them, and a hand yanked back my hangings. The girl I thought was called Ivy, who had extremely long hair, peered in at me, face screwed up.

"Hey!" I said, trying to tug them back, annoyed at this breach of my privacy. "Leave me alone!"

But I was more concerned about my phone: panic was rising up in my chest. What had happened to it? Had my bag got wet in the bottom of the boat? It was absolutely fine on the train!

"Can't you stop that sound?" begged Ivy, hands over her ears. "It's like a horrible insect! What  _is_  that thing?"

"It's my mobile, what do you think?" I muttered, pushing it under the cover to deaden the noise, and still frantically pressing all the buttons, trying to get it back to normal.

"Your what?" said Ivy, Bethany and Astrid altogether.

I switched it off. Maybe if I took the battery out and made sure it was dry inside...I fiddled with it. "My mobile phone," I repeated irritably, when they didn't stop looking at it. "It's literally just a phone, where do you guys live, under a rock?"

This didn't seem to offend any of them, if anything they seemed amused. "Is it a Muggle toy?" said Bethany.

"It's not a  _toy_ ," I spat, glaring at her. "You must know what a phone is."

"I know what they are," said Marion, and Susie nodded, too. "Muggles use them. My Mum's half-blood...some of her family have them."

"Well, what's it  _for_?"

I wasn't about to explain the purpose of a telephone to several ignorant witches. I was more concerned with getting mine working. Jennifer would be lying awake...

"You won't be able to fix it, you know," said Susie matter-of-factly.

I stopped in the middle of rubbing the battery with my sleeve. "What?"

"Muggle equipment like phones and radios and televisions...they won't work here. The place is saturated with magic. They can't function."

"How d'you know that?" I snapped.

Susie shrugged. "You're not the only one who's been having problems with Muggle technology. I was watching a kid on the Gryffindor table, he couldn't get something to work either. A "tablet", I think he called it. It was flickering just like your phone...it's just obvious, magic and technology don't gel."

Her calm logic hit me like a sack of bricks. I looked at my beautiful phone for a long time, like a gutted animal with its battery lying on the coverlet. And then, quite calm, I put it away and pulled my school robes back on.

"What are you doing?" asked Ivy, frowning.

"I need to send a message to my sister. I'm going to find my owl."

"You can't do that!" exclaimed Astrid. "You heard what the Headmistress said – no wandering the corridors after dark!"

"I don't care."

"You'll get us all in trouble for not stopping you!"

I ignored this. "I promised I'd text her and I can't, so I'm going to send her an owl." I picked up my shoulder bag and tugged a piece of parchment and a quill from my trunk.

"Don't be silly," said Susie, looking dismayed. "You'll get caught. Just send it in the morning."

"I'm sending it now," I said firmly. "I made a promise."

And I walked out of the room, leaving them all sat on their beds looking shocked and put-out. I crept down the stairs...the common room was deserted, it was very late. I slipped through the main door and stood for a moment in the darkness on the other side. I had absolutely no idea where Artemis was, as we'd been told to leave our trunks and owl cages in the little room we'd waited in before the Sorting. There must be some kind of Owl Room here. A tower would make sense, birds would like that, being high up like in a tree...I was just going to have to creep around the castle until I found it. If Artemis flew with a message tonight, maybe she'd reach Jennifer in the early morning, who by now must be lying awake with her phone beside her, wondering why I'd not texted, wondering if I'd forgotten her in all my exciting new surroundings. The thought made me square my shoulders and tiptoe, as quickly and stealthily as I could, down the spiral staircase.

Hogwarts was very cold at night and eerily quiet. I felt very small. I could imagine the castle lurking on the mountain like a giant bloated toad, and I lost in its great, deep belly. Summoning up all my courage, I crept forward, into the dark corridor.


	7. Professor Vector

_September, 2018._

Juliet

I got lost immediately. Soon I had absolutely no idea how to get back to Ravenclaw Tower. I crept down endless corridors, up innumerable flights of stairs, through heavy wooden doors and great stone archways...and quite soon realised how crazy it was to think I could find the school owls, particularly in the dark. Hogwarts was  _enormous..._

Suddenly one of the pearly white figures I'd seen in the Great Hall glided past – bloody hell, it was a ghost of a tubby little monk! I shrank into the shadows, terrified, and he disappeared around the corner without seeing me. No one had warned me that Hogwarts had dead people drifting around. That was not funny at all, that was seriously messed-up. "Wish you were here, Jen..." I mumbled. "This is way too weird."

And what was that whispering? I glanced nervously about me but couldn't see anyone. Yet there was a definite whispering and muttering, as though my progress was being followed by dozens of invisible people (oh heck, it had better not be more ghosts). It took me a while to realise – when a beam of moonlight filtering through a window provided enough light for me to see the walls – that it was the oil paintings all around me. It seemed the pictures could move and speak. Well, that was creepy, but better than dead people, I supposed. Once or twice one of them called after me – "What are you doing wandering around this late?" and "Should be in bed, you know!"

Each time I simply scurried away, until it occurred to me I was maybe missing a trick. Maybe one of them would tell me the way. It was worth a shot, I'd be wandering around till morning otherwise. In the gloom I could barely see the paintings' occupants, so I merely approached the nearest wall and whispered: "Er – excuse me."

"What's that?" mumbled a sleepy voice.

"It's a student, dearie, what else? Go back to sleep now, Erwin." This was a woman's voice, warm and soothing.

"What's she want?" said another voice.

"What's she doing out of bed?" chimed in another, and a fifth cut in, "Term's not even started yet, this is a bad 'un, for sure."

It sounded as though all the people in the surrounding portraits had rushed over to peer at me and comment. I knew I was blushing, even though they couldn't really see me. And I was worried about the chatter of dozens of people, I didn't want to be caught if I could help it.

"I just wondered if you could – could tell me where the school owls live," I said softly.

"Where these ghouls all live? What's she talking about?" said the sleepy voice, and the soothing female voice said, "Shhh, Erwin, dear, not ghouls, the owls. Settle down now."

"Why do you want the Owlery at this time of night, my dear girl? You should be tucked up in bed. Classes start tomorrow, you know!"

"I need to send a letter," I whispered. "It's urgent."

In the dark I heard soft chuckling all around and an amused voice said, "Bless 'em. Always rushing everywhere. Nothing can ever wait...just try being a portrait, nothing like it for settling down one's nerves..."

"It  _is_  urgent," I retorted, annoyed. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

"Bless 'em," said the same voice again, infuriatingly, but the soothing woman's voice interrupted, saying kindly, "Go back the way you came and try three floors up...the door to the Owlery is by the statue of Athena...I don't like to go that way or I'd show you, but it's one of Peeves' favourite haunts..."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" I whispered, wondering vaguely who Peeves was, but soon concentrating only on following her instructions. Twenty minutes later, after more blind stumbling, I found myself, with a thrill of relief, staring at a white marble statue that was visible even through the dark: a goddess in flowing robes, with an owl perched on her outstretched hand. It had to be Athena. I'd made it...I hurried past her to the wooden door behind, and had just taken hold of the handle when a horrible, sly voice said right in my ear: "Going somewhere, dearie?"

I whirled around in fright and found myself confronted by a little floating man, shining brightly in the dark: he was wearing an orange bow tie and violently-coloured clothes and had a wicked grin that stretched from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat.

"Who – who are you?" I stammered, backing away. "Go away!"

The man cackled and flipped over, eyeing me delightedly: "What for? Tell you what, I won't tell anyone you're out of bed."

"Er – thanks," I said uncertainly.

" _If_  you give Peevsie a show!"

" _What?"_

"Oh, you know...sing a song...dance for old Peeves...jiggle...wiggle your bum..."

"I'm not wiggling my bum!" I said, outraged. "Fuck off, you creep."

The little man's eyes gleamed at this, but he didn't move. "Tell you what would be more fun," he added, leaning forward conspiratorially, and beckoning me to come closer.

"What?" I said, suspiciously. The next moment I jumped out of my skin.

"FIIIIIIIIIIIIILCH!"

He bellowed it so loud I yelled too in shock. "Shut up! What are you doing? Stop it!"

He cackled gleefully at this, somersaulted in the air and screeched even louder - " _FIIIIIIIIIIILCH!_  STUDENT OUT OF BEEEEED! TRYING TO SNEAK INTO THE OWLERYYYYY!"

I looked around frantically for somewhere to hide but it was too late – there was a clatter of footsteps and a man with long, bedraggled grey hair appeared from a side door, holding up a lantern and glaring at me with pale, protruding eyes. I shrank back in horror as he bared his teeth at me in a malevolent grin. Soon he had my arm in a firm grip.

"What have we here?" he hissed..."How long have you been creeping around out of bed, you nasty little squirt? Oh, if only my Mrs Norris was still here, my sweet, she'd have sniffed you out in two minutes."

"Please, sir," I stammered – was this hideous wreck of a man a teacher? "I just need to send a letter."

"At this time of night? I think not," he spat, eyeing me suspiciously. "Sneaking around, Miss above-the-rules...you'll get detention for this, be sure of it. Follow me!"

I didn't move, though he yanked my arm with his filthy hand. "I need to send a letter," I said, looking desperately at the Owlery door. I was so close. "Please – let me send it first – then I'll come – "

"Shut up, you horrible little girl, or you'll make it worse for yourself – you're not sending anything tonight –"

"I NEED TO SEND IT!" I yelled, panic overtaking me. If I didn't, Jennifer really would think I'd forgotten her – she'd wake in the morning to no owl – I saw her scrolling through her unanswered texts, for there were bound to be many, feeling hurt and betrayed, and my own stomach lurched in panic at the thought. " _I NEED TO WRITE TO JENNIFER!_ "

Wrenching my arm out of Filch's clutches, I threw open the Owlery door, which sent Filch smashing to the floor with a strangled cry. I ran up the stairs two at a time, until I reached a high-ceilinged moonlit room with numerous windows through which were swooping simply hundreds of owls, hunting for food. The whooshing of a thousand wings above made me feel dizzy. I had no chance of spotting Artemis in this, and I could already hear a groaning and shuffling below; Filch would be up here soon.

"Artemis! ARTEMIS!" I shouted, not caring who heard, now. "Please come, please, I need you!"

It seemed impossible she would come, from this whirlwind of owls – but suddenly she was there, swooping through a window and down to my shoulder. "Thank goodness," I sobbed, throwing open my bag and grabbing at the quill and parchment inside. Just the quickest note – all I had time for before Filch reached me – I would just have to make do with "Phone dead, everything went wrong, will explain as soon as I can!"

But as I started to scratch the first word, nothing happened. For a brief second I stared at my quill before it hit me: I hadn't brought any ink. I'd never used a bloody feather to write before so I'd forgotten. It was useless. All at once I was filled with a sinking despair and I sank down, sobbing hopelessly, the horrors of the night catching up with me. Lost in the bowels of Hogwarts in the dark...the ghost...the talking paintings...Filch, and that awful Peeves...and after all that, no ink...I was a wreck.

Suddenly there was the sound of sharp footsteps marching up the stairs and next moment, McGonagall's furious voice:

"What on  _earth_  do you think you are doing?"

I didn't move. I was exhausted.

" _Lumos,_ " said McGonagall loudly, and a bright light hit my face. "Miss Belstone!" she said, clearly shocked. "It is two in the morning and you are in a  _very_  different tower from the one you should be! And I have just sent Mr Filch to the hospital wing with a terrible cut to his forehead.  _Explain yourself_."

But I just gulped and sniffed, not at all in control of myself. I'd be embarrassed later but I'd never had a worse day in my life. I drew a shuddering breath. I meant to explain but somehow it all got lost as I looked up at her and all I said was: "Please, Miss...do you have any ink?"

McGonagall looked down at me for a long moment, then said, in a very slightly gentler voice: "Come with me, Miss Belstone.  _Don't_  argue." She raised her wand and I flinched, but she simply murmured a spell, and something silver flashed out of the end and darted away.

Minutes later I was following McGonagall numbly to her office: up a moving spiral staircase high into yet another tower, and into a circular room, many candles lighting up the portrait-covered walls. There was already someone in the room: a thin witch with short silver hair and spectacles, looking curiously at me as McGonagall led me in.

"Good evening, Headmistress, I got your message," she said. "What is the matter?"

"Thank you for coming, Septima," said McGonagall, pushing me down into a chair where I sagged, too tired and miserable even to argue. "I'm sorry to spring something like this on you before term has even begun, but as the new Head of Ravenclaw House I felt you should be present at this conversation. This child - Juliet Belstone - is one of your new girls and I found her just now up in the Owlery, with Mr Filch sprawled at the foot of the stairs with a nasty head wound."

"Please, Miss," I said, looking up at them both. "I just wanted to send a letter to my sister."

"We do not send letters at such ridiculous hours!" said McGonagall. "After I had expressly said just hours before at the feast, it is forbidden to wander around at night, and you have just flagrantly flouted this rule. I'm astonished you thought this could possibly be acceptable."

"My phone didn't work," I mumbled. McGonagall ignored this.

"Now, I am not going to give you detention," she said crisply, "as we have not yet started the new term. But, Miss Belstone, listen carefully: if I catch you wandering the school again at night, you will be in very deep trouble. You will visit Mr Filch in the hospital wing tomorrow and apologise in person. Professor Vector –" she nodded towards the silver-haired witch, who had been listening silently, head cocked to one side "– will, I'm sure, make sure you do so. And I shall be writing to your parents about your disgraceful behaviour."

I lifted my head. "You'll write to them? Now?"

McGonagall gave me a knowing look, and I waited, tentatively. Her lips twitched, just slightly. "I will add a postscript to your sister to explain about your phone. Septima – please escort Miss Belstone back to Ravenclaw Tower."

And the silver-haired witch led me from the room as relief filled me. At least, by morning, Jennifer would know I'd tried to reach her, that something had gone wrong.

"You seem a very determined young lady," Professor Vector commented, as I followed her and her lit wand through the corridors. "Unusually determined...tell me, are you in the habit of attacking caretakers when they get in your way? Just so I know what to expect...I'll be ready to defend myself..."

I flushed. "That was an accident. I –"

But she was smiling kindly at me, and I saw she didn't mean it. It seemed to be the first truly open, friendly face I had seen all day, and in my ragged state of nervous exhaustion I almost cried again. Unlike everyone else, she didn't ask a single question, didn't pry: and it was this more than anything else that made me suddenly want her very much to understand.

"I'm a twin," I told her softly, as we tiptoed up a sweeping staircase. "But my sister...Jennifer...she isn't a witch. Today was the first day we've spent apart, ever. I – I really miss her."

Professor Vector looked at me with her wise old face, and I saw real sympathy in her eyes. She waited for me to go on.

"I promised I'd send her a message when I got here but I couldn't," I whispered. "She would have been so hurt...if I hadn't..."

"I see," was all Professor Vector said, but I could tell she really did see. I fell silent. After a while, she spoke again as we claimed the final staircase together.

"Juliet, I am a teacher of Arithmancy...it is the complex art, which involves studying the magical properties of numbers...many find it dry, but those who have the true understanding will find much is illuminated for them. As a twin I see you as one of the anomalies in my discipline – you are both one, and two! Both powerfully magical numbers, in their different ways. My dear girl: you and your sister are one by birth, and nothing can ever change that, time and distance are mere irrelevancies. But remember: you and she are, also,  _fundamentally_ : two. Not two halves of a whole...but two wholes, from two halves. Just something to think about, when you are a little less sleep-deprived."

I tried to digest her words as we went up the last few stairs and reached the eagle door knocker, which said in its silvery voice: " _Some it was, so went away: who is left?"_

I was ready to drop: not another dreadful riddle. But Professor Vector was smiling at the doorknob. "Oh, she was listening, was she?"

"Oh, please, Professor, can't you do it?"

"Some it was," said Vector, looking closely at me. "So went away. Who is left, when so leaves some?"

A few seconds passed before it clicked in my tired brain and I whispered, frowning: "me".

"Good girl..."

The door swung open...Vector had silently vanished. Minutes later I was at last back in bed, tucked under my blue coverlet: the other girls' snores faded quickly as I sank, effortlessly, into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	8. Charms and Potions

_September, 2018._

Juliet

The next day I was red-eyed and disorientated from lack of sleep. The other girls in my dormitory were gone when I woke, late, judging from the cold morning light outside. I had no idea what time it was. My digital watch had apparently stopped at seven-fifteen the previous evening as I had crossed into the Hogwarts grounds.

Susie, Bethany and the rest of them hadn't bothered to wake me, then. They must still be annoyed with me for leaving Ravenclaw tower at night. Well, let them be like that! I didn't care.

I threw on my school robes, dragged a brush through my hair and hurried out of the tower. I was already wondering about Jennifer: had she got McGonagall's letter? She should know today, at least, that I had done my best to contact her. I would write her a long letter at lunchtime, definitely.

When I reached the Great Hall, which was empty of students, it was to see the last of the breakfast – scraps of bacon, yellow pools of egg yolk, uneaten toast crusts and blobs of strawberry jam – disappear magically from the plates and dishes on the table. I had missed it.

My stomach gave a loud grumble as in a bad mood I turned to leave. To my horror, I found myself face to face with one of the ghosts – a man straight from Elizabethan times, judging by his clothes and large ruff – who said, irritatingly, "What are you doing here, young lady? Classes started five minutes ago!"

"Oh, that's helpful," I snapped.

The ghost looked very offended. "There's no need for that tone of voice, even if I am dead," he said, and drifted away.

I sighed and hunted in my bag for my timetable, which informed me my first lesson was Herbology and that we were sharing the lesson with the Gryffindor students. Under "location" it just said Greenhouse One. Oh no...remembering my late-night wanderings looking for the Owlery, I imagined a similar experience searching all over the grounds for the greenhouses. In desperation I called after the ghost's retreating back.

"Um – mister ghost – you couldn't tell me where Greenhouse One is, could you?"

The ghost stopped and turned around rather slowly. Even at this distance I could tell he was still miffed. I walked up to him, embarrassed. "Um, sorry," I said when I reached him, trying not to be too freaked out by his, well, deadness. "I just – I didn't sleep much last night, and then I missed breakfast. Sorry," I repeated, lamely.

The ghost's features relaxed into a gracious smile. "Well, then, apology accepted. A little politeness goes a long way, you know. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service, Miss...?"

"Juliet."

"A pleasure to meet you. And now I believe you were looking for Greenhouse One...?"

He gave me some detailed directions and we parted amicably enough. I suppose the ghosts weren't too bad, after all - if I could get used to the idea of them.

I wasn't too sorry to be late, however. It could serve me well if I was to be playing the troublemaker. To be honest, I wasn't too sure  _how_  best to be rebellious, as I had promised Jennifer, but nonchalant lateness seemed like a good start.

On entering Greenhouse One, therefore, and joining the huddle of people inside – who all turned to look when I came in, the teacher breaking off his welcome speech - I deliberately didn't apologise, but just said, as laconically as I could, "Hi."

At the front of the group I saw Susie and Bethany both roll their eyes and tut. But the teacher – a youngish, fair-haired man with hands covered in earth and what appeared to be a wriggling plant in a front pocket of his robes - didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he smiled cheerily at me, and simply said, "Well, hello, there, you must be Juliet Belstone. I missed you on the register. I'm Professor Longbottom. Always hard to find your way round on the first day, isn't it! I used to get lost all the time – still do, occasionally..."

Everyone laughed and I felt rather foolish. But Professor Longbottom smiled at us all and drew our attention to the pots of spiny, purplish plants in the middle of the room. They had a dry, papery look to their many leaves and large ugly flowers the colour of a bruise.

"Moondew plants!" said Professor Longbottom enthusiastically. "Now, can anyone tell me anything about these?"

Predictably, Susie spoke first. "Moondew juice is used in Potions, isn't it? It's a vital ingredient in, um – love potions."

A few people giggled and Susie went pink.

"It is indeed," agreed Professor Longbottom. "But we aren't making any of those today! Excellent answer, though, one point to Ravenclaw. Moondew is indeed a key ingredient of love potions, but is also used in several other widely-used potions, and for that reason we have it here in the Hogwarts greenhouses. Now, it grows wild in Scotland but is a wee bit tricky to cultivate as it needs rather a lot of help to grow...anyone know why?"

No one answered, even Susie. I was secretly pleased she didn't know everything.

"Moondew needs to shed its skin regularly as it grows, like a snake," explained Professor Longbottom, running his finger down one plant's papery leaves, which rustled. "In the wild, it has a rather wonderful symbiotic relationship with the Mooncalves, also found in abundance in the Scottish Highlands as they inhabit vast, wild moorland...Mooncalves feed at night on the skins, which are very nutritious, which in turn allows the Moondew to thrive."

He pinched the paper skin at the base of one of the plants' leaves and gave it a tug; it peeled off with a satisfying tearing sound, exposing the glistening, glossy purple flesh below. "But we haven't any Mooncalves in the Hogwarts greenhouses, so we need to skin each leaf ourselves by hand, which is what we'll be doing today. In a few weeks they'll be large enough to cut up and juice! So, if you could divide into pairs and take one pot between two of you..."

There was a flurry as everyone quickly found people to partner up with. I was immediately thrown into a quiet panic – obviously, I had always partnered with Jennifer. I stood, awkwardly, unsure how to approach anyone. I didn't really want to partner up, but I didn't want to be left alone, either...

The other five Ravenclaw girls quickly paired up, either with each other or with Ravenclaw boys or Gryffindor students. Predictably, I was left standing by myself at the end, feeling a complete twit.

"Oh, we're odd numbers today!" said Professor Longbottom, coming over. "Ah – well, we'll have one set of three, why don't you go with Lorcan and Lysander here?" He gestured at two Gryffindor students nearest to me, who I realised with a jolt were the blonde-haired Scamander twins.

"No," I said immediately, not caring if it sounded rude. Everyone looked shocked and the twins looked at me, then each other, with identical blond eyebrows raised. I didn't explain myself.

"Well, now," said Professor Longbottom, looking flustered. "Maybe it's better if you join some girls, yes, you'd prefer that, wouldn't you, how about Astrid and Ivy?"

I walked over to Astrid and Ivy's table silently, trying to ignore the looks on their faces, of resignation and annoyance at being lumbered with me.

Gradually the atmosphere relaxed and everyone started chattering, as we all spent the next forty-five minutes skinning the Moondew plants, which I secretly found quite enjoyable. There was something very satisfying about tearing the papery dead skin off the new, glistening purple skin below, and seeing the plant slowly transform into a healthy-looking specimen.

Astrid and Ivy just talked to each other for a while, over my head, but eventually Ivy asked, evidently curious: "So did you find the Owlery last night, Juliet?"

I wrestled with myself, torn between wanting to keep my business private and being, pathetically, a little glad someone was speaking to me. Eventually I just said, without looking up, "Yeah, I found it."

"And so you sent your letter." It was a statement, not a question, so I didn't correct her.

"You could have got us into terrible trouble, you know," said Astrid prissily.

"Well, I didn't, did I?" I returned, annoyed.

"You were just lucky you didn't get caught!" Ivy sniffed.

"I did get caught."

They both stopped skinning and looked at me in surprise. "You did?"

"I injured Professor Filch and got a mouthful from McGonagall," I said, enjoying myself a little now at the looks on both their faces. "Then Professor Vector personally escorted me back to bed."

Astrid snorted. "Filch isn't a  _Professor_. He's the caretaker." She exchanged another look with Ivy, as though she figured I was making up or exaggerating the whole thing. My stomach growled and burbled loudly.

"Is that _you_  making that noise?" said Ivy, her little snub nose turned upwards – like a piglet, I thought.

"I didn't have any breakfast," I said curtly, the implication clear.  _Because no one woke me up._

"Sorry, Juliet," said a voice contritely behind me. It was Marion, with her too-innocent blue eyes and straight, shoulder-length brown hair. "We knew you'd gone to bed late so I said not to wake you up, when we went down for breakfast. I didn't realise you would oversleep so much."

I merely shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter," I said, ungraciously, and Marion turned back to her table, looking put out.

We didn't talk much more, and the lesson was soon over.

As I left, and made my way back to the castle, I found my way barred by two identical forms: the Gryffindor twins, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, blonde hair tousled, looking down at me (they were both quite tall) with identical frowns.

"Hey, Belstone, what was all that about in there?" said one of them, moving to block me as I tried to sidestep them.

"Get out of my way," I said shortly, feeling hot anger bubble up inside me.

"Do you have a problem with us? Because if you do, we'd like to hear it."

"I  _said_ , get out of my way."

"What have we done to you?" said the second twin. "We've never seen you before. You're looking as though we murdered your cat. We haven't murdered your cat," he added quickly, as I glared at him.

"I don't have a cat," I spat, folding my arms and standing still.

"Well, then."

They waited for an explanation and I felt a hot flush rising to my cheeks. I knew it was stupid. I knew they hadn't done it personally to affront me. But I couldn't forgive it, these two twin brothers standing there smugly, with no idea – not a clue – how fortunate they were.

"Some people," I said, breathing heavily, "some people get all the luck. That's all."

And I pushed past them, into the castle.

"Merlin," I heard one of them say. "I'd like to see her try to make friends in this place."

I tried not to dwell on this in the next lesson, which was Charms. The teacher, Professor Bell, who told us she was starting her teaching career after twenty years playing then coaching Quidditch for the Montrose Magpies. Several students seemed to know her from this already, and it made her popular with them. She went on to teach us simple wand movements and got us to repeat a few incantations without wands, correcting our intonation and enunciation, before allowing us to practise a simple levitation charm on a feather. I battled with myself for the second time that day.

I had told myself I wasn't going to try, that learning magic would only set me further apart from Jennifer. But making things fly...magically...with a sweep of the wand, as Professor Bell had shown us, making the blackboard eraser zoom around the room knocking off people's hats, was – well, it was pretty cool. Deep down, I knew I wanted to give it a go. Just to see if I  _could_.

And so, with immense feelings of guilt which I tried to quash, I tried the spell, over and over, concentrating harder each time I failed, listening to Professor Bell when she corrected my wand grip and wrist movement as she moved among the class, working on my intonation and timing, and at last, at the end of the lesson, was rewarded: the feather gave a sudden wiggle and jerked a foot into the air as though tugged by an invisible string. A rush of pleasure filled my chest. I had done it! I looked around. Susie's feather was high in the air – obviously – but everyone else's was still on their desks, and the small red-haired Ravenclaw boy, Hugo Granger-Weasley, seemed to have exploded his: he was covered in little white feathery strands.

"Excellent, you two," beamed Professor Bell, and gave Susie and me five points each for Ravenclaw house. I tried not to feel too pleased with myself, but somehow I was feeling a lot less guilty. Even though I hadn't even tried to make any trouble in the Charms lesson...oh heck.

I knew then I just didn't have it in me to cause trouble, and sighed as I left the classroom. Me, a troublemaker? Who was I kidding? I had felt so small and crushed in McGonagall's office last night...I didn't want to go through that, again and again. When I was late to Herbology and rude to the cheerful Professor Longbottom I knew I had just made a fool of myself, not anyone else. And Charms...well, I quite liked Charms. I found myself wondering what else they would teach me – what other magical things I could learn to do, at this place...

Maybe Jennifer would understand. I couldn't spend years at this school and not learn anything, after all...in which case, I might as well learn everything. That was just logical. Wasn't it?

Anyway, I wouldn't think about this now, the important thing was I could finally write to her! It was lunchtime, and, starving after my lack of breakfast, I grabbed a roll and some ham and cheese from the Great Hall and made a rough sandwich. I ate it as I hurried up towards the Owlery, now fairly confident of the way.

"Juliet!"

I looked around. Professor Vector was right behind me, her spectacles right at the end of her nose as she looked at me with her knowing grey eyes.

"Oh, hello, Professor..." I said, swallowing a large mouthful of bread and ham.

"You've forgotten something," she said gently, her gaze flicking towards the floor by the Owlery door where the caretaker Filch had sprawled last night. Oh, damn. The apology McGonagall insisted I make today. My shoulders slumped. Yet again, when I needed to write to Jennifer...

"I know you're in a hurry, my dear girl," said Vector, "But I'd get it over with, if I were you. The Headmistress insists you visit Mr Filch this lunchtime in the hospital wing, and if you write your letter first you'll only have to cut it short. Perhaps it would be best to wait until this evening."

I looked longing at the Owlery door, but knew she was right. I didn't want to send a short letter to Jennifer, that would only hurt her feelings even more.

"All right," I said reluctantly, turning my back. "I'll write to her this evening. Could you show me where the hospital wing is, please?"

The apology was excruciating. It seemed Madame Pomfrey, the elderly witch in charge of the hospital wing, had mended the wound to Filch's forehead easily enough and he was simply in for bed rest. But he didn't make it easy for me as I awkwardly left a bunch of flowers (Vector had produced these for me, incredibly, with a flick of her wand) at his bedside and mumbled an apology. After he had glared and snarled and called me a dozen names from "slime-faced ratbag" to "snotty-nosed assassin", a vein close to bursting in his temple, Madame Pomfrey declared I had done enough apologising and rushed over to administer a sedative.

The afternoon's lesson took my mind off the unpleasant experience, however: double Potions (shared with the Hufflepuffs) with a short-haired, brisk witch who introduced herself as Potions Mistress, Professor Bunce. She reminded me strongly of my P.E. teacher at primary school who was an ex-army troglodyte who shouted all the time.

After a run-though of basic safety procedures, and fundamental preparation and brewing techniques, Professor Bunce announced we'd be trying a beginner's potion today. "Although," she added, her grey eyes sweeping over our nervous faces, "I never expect much from the first attempt. Follow the instructions and you should not explode your cauldron, however.  _Precision!_  That's what Potions is about. Now..." She began to rattle out instructions for a Dizziness Draught, scratching out the main points on the blackboard. I noticed several of my classmates giving each other panicked looks.

Professor Bunce marched up and down our rows of cauldrons, checking our progress as we feverishly chopped ingredients, fed our fires, tried to follow where we were in our books, and stirred to stop the bubbling concoctions from sticking. I was just about keeping up and was peering over my cauldron to check if, after adding a scoop of glittery beetle eyes to the steaming mix, the colour was changing from bluish-grey to green, when –

 _BANG_.

Mona Atherton, the trembling little girl who was first to be Sorted yesterday, somehow shattered her cauldron and its entire contents right next to me. I was showered in the hot, treacly liquid as everyone screamed and pushed their chairs away, and as I jumped to my feet I felt the blood rush from my head...my head span and the classroom whirled...more half-brewed Dizziness Draught trickled down my face as I stumbled about in panic. White flashes obscured my vision as I heard, as if from a great distance, Professor Bunce barking angrily at Mona...but it was too late...everything went white as my head whirled and I was falling, falling...

When I woke up in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey was leaning over me and informed me it was the following morning, as she had kept me unconscious the entire night while the worst effects of Mona's overly strong potion wore off.

The following morning! I sat bolt upright in horror, then groaned and sank back into my pillows as my head whirled. I felt nauseous and disorientated, but most of all sickeningly guilty.

I hadn't written to Jennifer at all yesterday! I buried my face in my hands and for the second time in two days I dissolved into tears: this time, tears of guilt and shame (and I'd never been a cry baby. I was finding out I wasn't as strong by myself as I was side by side with my sister). Hogwarts...it was Hogwarts again. It was as though the castle was deliberately pulling me away from my twin, coming between us in a great and terrible stone barrier.

It took some persuasion before Madame Pomfrey allowed me parchment, quill and ink ("you need rest!") but at last she relented, and I wrote a long, long letter, nearly two days later than promised. The hot weight of guilt never left my chest the whole time. I tried to explain: about my midnight escapade, and getting caught, and lessons, and having to apologise to Filch at lunchtime, and the accident in Potions class. But I knew it sounded feeble. I knew I could have tried harder. I could have got up early and written before breakfast yesterday, instead of oversleeping... I just hoped Jennifer would understand. I asked dozens of questions about Greenhill Academy to make up for my slackness, and when it was written I begged Madame Pomfrey to be allowed up to the Owlery.

"Certainly not!" said Madame Pomfrey, shocked. "You'll have vertigo for hours yet, that girl's potion was ridiculously strong. Goodness knows how many poppy petals she put into it, and she must have had the fire  _far_  too hot, too. Climbing a tower is the very last thing you should be doing, you'll drop like a stone."

"Oh, but..."

"No arguments," said Madame Pomfrey firmly. "And you'll need to drink one cup of this Balancing Brew every half hour. I'm going up to the Owlery later this morning, however, to send a message myself – I can take your letter for you, if you wish?"

I nearly hugged her. "Oh, yes please – thank you so much, Madame Pomfrey! My owl is a little tawny one, answers to Artemis, she'll take it." I pressed the scroll of parchment gratefully into the elderly witch's hand.

I was off lessons all day, feeling steadier with every cup of the Balancing Brew, and quietly relieved when I saw Madame Pomfrey slip out to visit the Owlery that morning, my letter finally on its way. I ate the trays of food brought to me for lunch and dinner quietly, passing the time by alternately sleeping and reading  _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ , which we had used for the levitation spell yesterday. It was quite incredible...considering it was only a beginners' book, there was an astonishing medley of spells, hexes, jinxes and charms. I read it with growing conviction. I had realised something. I definitely wanted to learn the lot. I wanted to be a proper witch and not waste my power. I didn't want to muck around at the back of the class, the idiot, foolish one, trying pointlessly to aggravate the teachers, while others progressed.

That wouldn't really achieve anything, after all, trying to remain a - what was the word? - "Muggle". But I wanted – no,  _needed_  - Jennifer with me. I couldn't really believe she didn't have a spark of magic in her somewhere. We were basically the same person, we were once the exact same cell, deep in the womb before we split into two, and I was going to help her become find her magical powers and become a witch too, if it was the last thing I did.

And when we were older, and both powerful witches, we would fight the rotten system which had tried to tear us apart. We would take down Hogwarts, find a way to change the maddening, inflexible laws that forced us to divide so unnaturally.

As the hospital wing sank into darkness and the other patients started to snuffle and snore, I swore quietly to myself that I would do this, someday. I just had to find out  _how_.


	9. Letters and Lies

_September-December, 2018._

Juliet

For the next few weeks I became an apparently model student. I had discovered the Hogwarts Library and spent all my spare time there. I would get lunch, or any homework, quickly out of the way, and then devote the rest of my time to the idea which was consuming me like fire: how to help Jennifer become a witch. I pored through countless musty old tomes on the hunt for clues, anything at all. The gaunt librarian, Madame Pince, ushered me out each evening when dusk fell outside, tiny bats flitting past the castle windows.

The reply I had received from Jennifer to my belated first letter had spurred me on to even greater efforts: it had been brief, terse even. It simply said this:

_Hi Juliet,_

_Thanks for the update at last._ _Sounds like your school is fun._

_Jennifer_

Clearly, she was upset with me. It was unfair – she had ignored my explanations about why I hadn't written, and everything rotten and awful I had described about my first two days at the school. She'd honed in on my brief descriptions of the Herbology and Charms lessons, which I had mentioned were interesting, and twisted those few words to imply that I was having a whale of a time. Still, I knew she had reason to be mad at me, so I simply made sure I sent a letter faithfully every morning before breakfast, getting up early especially to do so. I didn't have to climb up to the Owlery any more: my loyal Artemis started appearing at the dormitory window at sunrise, beating the window gently with her wings until I let her in and gave her the letter to take back down south.

Gradually Jennifer seemed to grudgingly forgive me and Apollo flew back with a return letter every evening, evolving from brief replies to normal, chatty epistles asking lots of questions about Hogwarts. The regular communication settled me: I still missed my sister, still felt the empty space next to me like a raw wound, but I felt happier linked by the tight invisible thread of owls flying swiftly between us through each day and night.

I told Jennifer of my search through the Hogwarts library books, of course, and she became as eager as me to find an answer. " _Have you found anything?_ " her letters begged. " _Is there a spell to bring out hidden magic in people? Have your researched magic-boosting potions?"_

The trouble was that the library really didn't seem to have much on the subject of where magic came from or how to create it, only how to use it when you had it. Also there was the problem of where to look; there were thousands of books, and I didn't dare ask Madame Pince for help as I didn't want the teachers finding out what I was looking for. Perhaps I was too scared they say it wasn't possible.

After weeks of fruitless searching, I eventually came across something of interest in, oddly enough, the Muggle Studies section, which I had been browsing in case there was any information about Muggles who had tried to learn magic. Tucked in between the heavier books about Muggle government, daily life without magic, and Muggle careers, there was a slim leather-bound volume all about Muggle religions. The book described Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and other major religions really quite basically, and sometimes erroneously (from what I knew of those religions from my R.E. lessons in primary school, and the book also called Judaism "Jewism", which rather undermined its authority). However, despite its obvious flaws, I soon became absorbed in a short chapter covering so-called 'earth religions': paganism, Wicca, and the people who called themselves druids.

I turned the page in the half-light of early evening, frowning. I'd heard of druids, of course, the strange pagan people who worshipped nature and dressed all in green leafy clothes...or something like that. I'd never given them much thought, to be honest, and read here with great interest that these Muggle followers of Wicca would supposedly gather -  _to practise magic and witchcraft_. I'd have scoffed at that just a couple of months ago, before my Hogwarts letter, but now I read the chapter with growing absorption. The book said Wiccans believed in earth magic, ancient magic...it didn't say if this was genuine magic - it was only a very short chapter - but it didn't say that it was  _not_! Surely if earth magic was tosh the book would make that immediately obvious? Maybe it was tongue-in-cheek, but it was hard to tell...and after all...if  _I_  was magic – if there were witches and wizards all over the country – couldn't it also be possible that groups of Muggles across the world had also found ways to use witchcraft? It had piqued my interest. The more I thought about it, the more the idea consumed me, until I could think of anything else.  _What if the Wiccans held the answer? What if they were Muggles who knew how to do real magic? What if they could help Jennifer?_ Annoying, there was nothing else in that section about the Wiccans, but I could ask Jennifer to look up more information online.

Brimming with suppressed excitement at this new idea, I wanted to write to Jennifer right away, but knew it would have to wait till morning: Artemis needed to sleep. I woke extra early the next day, while the other girls snored in their four-poster beds; my letter was ready in my hand as I sat by the window waiting impatiently for Artemis to turn up. When she finally did, I fed her an owl treat more hurriedly than usual, ignoring her reproachful chirp, then eagerly nudged her on her way with the following:

_Jen, I'm onto something! Quickly, look up druids and Wicca online – what do you think? Could their magic be genuine? Shall we see if they can help us? Juliet xxx_

Her reply came that evening:

_Cool, Juliet! I've looked it up and there's HUNDREDS of Muggles all over the country practising 'earth magic' and doing magical rites and stuff! They even publish books with the spells in and how to do them. I would've thought it was all rubbish a few months ago, but I would've thought that if someone had told me about Hogwarts, too. What if no one takes these Wiccan Muggles seriously and that is their disguise? What if they are doing ACTUAL magic?_

Yes, yes, that was the thing! And if that was the case, then what was to stop Jennifer finding a source of magic inside her, as they had? And if they could teach her...this could be our breakthrough! Jennifer could be at Hogwarts later this year! I scribbled back my answer, my insides starting to writhe with excitement now that we were on the same wavelength:

 _Exactly! But – how do we get in touch with a bunch of druids and Wiccans? I don't_ know _any druids or Wiccans..._

Jen replied, cool and matter-of-fact:

 _Stonehenge, 2018 Winter Solstice, 21_ _st_ _December. There'll be literally thousands of them there that night and you'll be back for the Christmas holidays. It's the perfect time. We have to get there! The only problem is Mum and Dad, obviously._

Yeah...I briefly imagined asking Mum and Dad if we could spend the night celebrating the Winter Solstice at Stonehenge and mentally laughed in my own face. They weren't massively overprotective but, being realistic: we were eleven year old girls. Stonehenge was a long way from Devon. And with thousands of people turning up, it was probably quite rowdy. Well, there was nothing for it: we'd just have to come up with a believable story. I truly hated lying to Mum and Dad, but what other choice did we have?

 _How about I say I've been asked to visit a friend from Hogwarts who lives near Stonehenge for a few days before Christmas and that you're invited too?_ (I suggested in my next letter.)  _Mum and Dad will be thrilled to hear I have a friend and you're able to meet them._

Jennifer thought this was a brilliant idea, and so, trying to dismiss my guilt at telling Mum and Dad a great fat lie, I sent them a few letters over the autumn term in which I mentioned my new best chum Susie Hibbert (they responded enthusiastically, which made me feel worse – I hadn't made friends with anybody here, they had all formed little cliques from which I was obviously excluded, and this had worried Mum and Dad a lot). As December rolled in, I steeled myself and wrote to them again, to say I and Jennifer were both invited to Susie's house in Salisbury from December twenty-first to the twenty-second, and could we please go?

Their reply was even better than hoped. It would have been a massive pain getting to Salisbury by ourselves – several buses, and a long train journey – but Mum and Dad's reply, brought by Apollo along with Jennifer's nightly letter, made things much easier; even though I squirmed guiltily when I read it.

_Juliet darling,_

_How wonderful that Susie has invited you to stay, and how kind of her to invite Jennifer as well! Of course you can go, it will be lovely for you to have a little time away together after a term apart, and for Jen to experience how witches and wizards live. Please tell Susie thank you from us both._

_We don't want to pack you both off on the train, it'll be a horrible journey just before Christmas, the trains will be crowded_ _and there are always delays. I'll write to Anna and Dave in Guildford and see if they'd like a pre-Christmas visit. We can drop you off at Susie's house in Salisbury on our way there and pick you up on our way back, if the dates work for them!_

_Much love,_

_Mum and Dad_

Well, that was pretty much perfect, if Mum's sister Anna and her husband Dave were free for a visit. We just needed somewhere to really stay, now, and a way to stop Mum and Dad trying to drop us off at Susie Hibbert's non-existent house in Salisbury.

Happily, Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave replied to Mum and Dad to say they'd love a visit, and Jennifer solved the first problem:

_Juliet, I've booked a family room at a big travel hotel just outside Salisbury for two nights, online. I didn't dare book a twin room in a B &B – they'd never allow us in without parents so we're going to have to pretend we're all staying. I reckon a large, busy hotel chain won't be as personal, we can pretend Mum and Dad have sent us ahead to check in...I don't think they'll check on us._

_I had to use Dad's debit card to make the reservation! (Terrifying...but I managed to borrow it while he was in the shower, so he has no idea.) We can use our savings and pay in cash when we get there. I don't think it'll show on Dad's account, they just need a credit card to guarantee the booking apparently._

After Jennifer had researched caf _é_ s in Salisbury town centre online, I sorted the second problem in my next letter to Mum and Dad.

 _That's amazing, Susie is really pleased!_   _There's no need to drop us at her house, she wants us all to go for a Christmas hot chocolate at a nice little café she knows in Salisbury and says could we meet her there – her parents will pick us all up and take us back afterwards. It's called the Busy Bee Café._

I was feeling worse and worse about the number of lies I was telling to make this whole trip plausible. But Mum and Dad swallowed this one, and our plans were set. We just had to be careful not to let anything slip...

The rest of the school term flew by in a whirl of lessons and letters, as Jennifer and I continued to look up everything we could about Wiccan magic, which seemed fascinating – some of the more powerful stuff involved full-on rituals with herbs and magic pools under the light of the full moon, and there were definitely complex initiation ceremonies and rites. Perhaps the initiation ceremonies were where people discovered their hidden magical powers?

I couldn't stop imagining the Spring term when if all went well, Jennifer would be joining me at Hogwarts! I would help her to catch up and then we would have the best fun...I couldn't wait till she was here with me.

My lessons were all interesting and I worked hard, delighting in my new abilities. Transfiguration was terribly difficult, but rewarding (I had successfully turned a slug into a rubber recently, my proudest achievement so far). Charms was always fun and easily my favourite class, I enjoyed Herbology and even Potions: I was learning to keep pace with Professor Bunce's rapid instructions, and my resulting efforts were pretty good. We had flying lessons once a week which were quite difficult – I'd fallen off several times on takeoff – but pretty cool once you had got your balance. I hadn't been too pleased to find History of Magic taught by a ghost, Professor Binns: I wasn't really over my fear of the ghosts yet, particularly as they were in the habit of popping through walls when you least expected it. Binns looked as though he'd died sometime in the Victorian era, he was a withered, ancient-looking ghost and whenever I looked at him I shuddered: all I could imagine was his dead, crumpled body. History of Magic aside, though, the classes were pretty fascinating.

But I badly craved Jennifer's company. I didn't talk to anyone much, here. Bethany, Ivy, Astrid, Marion – none of them bothered with me now, and Susie definitely wasn't even a friend, let alone a best friend as I'd told Mum and Dad. The five of them habitually chatted to each other as though they had forgotten I was in the room. I didn't care now though. Jennifer could be here by January and things would be as they always were.

And at long last, it was the start of the holidays, my bag was packed, the dormitory vacated, and I was speeding home on the Hogwarts Express, the castle disappearing behind a swirl of thick December mist. My whole body and soul cried out for Jennifer, who was meeting me at the platform – soon, soon we would be together again, one again!

My heart beat painfully in my chest as I gazed out of the train window at the pale, mist-wreathed December sun.

The Winter Solstice was in six days.


	10. The Solstice

_December, 2018._

Jennifer

The air was heavy with the scent of coffee and cinnamon, gingerbread and toffee, and it was hard to hear Mum over the bustle of baristas, sputtering of the espresso machine and the hiss of the steaming milk. "Are you  _sure_ you don't want me to wait until Susie gets here? It would be nice to meet her...and I don't like leaving you here..."

We were all standing in the packed Busy Bee cafe in Salisbury, Wiltshire. Mum and Dad had both come inside with us despite Juliet's slightly panicked protestations that there was no need, and of course had immediately discovered the absence of Susie.

Glancing at me, Juliet pulled out her phone and I cottoned on instantly. Mum and Dad would have no idea that magical families didn't use mobiles.

"No, it's okay, Mum," Juliet said breezily, peering at the screen. "I've just had a text from Susie. She says she missed her bus but she's on her way. I don't want to make you late for Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave. Jennifer and I can read and have a drink until she gets here."

But both Mum and Dad looked unconvinced, and behind their backs I quickly pulled my phone out too, unlocked it, tapped Contacts, and touched Juliet's name. I slipped it back into my pocket as Juliet's phone rang.

Juliet answered my call, saying chirpily, "Susie! Hi! Yes, I got your text, thanks – how did you manage to miss your bus, silly...we're in the Busy Bee, yeah...how have your holidays been? Oh that's cool..." and warbled on cheerily, whilst motioning to Mum and Dad to go. They were always good about not listening in on our private phone conversations, and after sharing a quick glance, Dad patted Juliet on the shoulder and Mum hugged me then they left, mouthing, " _Be good!"_

Juliet hung up as soon as they left and grinned at me. "I was hoping you'd do that," she said.

"Twin minds think alike, doubles seldom differ," I answered and we both giggled. That was something we used to say as kids. Since Juliet got back six days ago we had been inseparable, and slipped back into old habits like a second skin. Hungry for each other's company, we had chattered nonstop and stayed up late every night, talking...soon it seemed as though I knew Hogwarts as well as my sister did, and I was as familiar with the girls in her House and the students in her classes as she was. I didn't tell her quite everything about Greenhill Academy, but that didn't matter. I didn't want her to worry.

And this Christmas, here we were in Salisbury, the day of the Winter Solstice. Both of us were in high spirits, nervous but terribly excited. Everything was meticulously planned. We both moved towards the counter to order hot chocolates, having decided beforehand to stay in the cafe for a short while in case Mum and Dad didn't drive off immediately and saw us exit, Susie-less.

We squeezed around a table tucked away in a cosy corner, and drank our hot chocolates slowly, relaxing a little now we were alone.

"So, the hotel is actually a bus ride out of the town centre," I said, recapping our plans. "We check in and drop our overnight stuff, then get the bus back into town and then there's a shuttle bus to Stonehenge for the Solstice. Then we need to find this Zephyr guy."

"At the foot of the seventh stone," Juliet reminded me.

"Yep, that's the one."

We had spent a lot of time this Christmas holiday on a forum in a fascinating website we had found after much trawling online, moonfiremagic dot com. Moonfire Magic seemed to be a hidden hub for practising pagans, druids and Wiccans, and some of the things we had read on there made our breath catch in our throats. The more we dug the more we revealed of this secretive community, glimpsing photos of mystical-looking rituals, and we had even found a few pictures of Muggle druids using actual wands!

Eventually we had summoned up the courage to post on the forum ourselves, under the fake names SilverStar and MidnightMoon. Without revealing the full truth, we explained we would be at Stonehenge for the Solstice and asked if anyone would be there who could help MidnightMoon to become fully initiated into the magical druid world. Our request was eagerly passed on and became a hot topic; within two days it had reached the person many online druids insisted was the one we were looking for: Zephyr, a great leader in this mystical world. He had told us to meet him at the seventh stone at nine o'clock on December twenty-first. Hardly daring to believe our luck, we replied to say that we would be there, and now I looked into Juliet's blue eyes and saw my own hope and eagerness reflected there.

But first we had to get our hotel sorted for the night. We downed the last dregs of our delicious hot chocolate and made our way to the bus stop, checking our rather meagre pool of savings.

"Forty-three pounds and fifty pence," I muttered, calculating quickly. "The hotel room is thirty. That leaves us just over thirteen quid for buses and food this weekend. We'll have to be really careful..."

We had saved up every penny of our pocket money for the last two months and added them to the two ten pound notes we'd been given from Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave last time they visited, to give ourselves the means to get away this weekend. It was barely enough.

Soon the bus was pulling up outside the grubby-looking outskirts of Salisbury which contrasted sharply with its quaint, well-heeled centre, and we found ourselves standing outside a huge brick-and-concrete building with the well-known hotel chain name stamped across the top.

"We can do this," Juliet murmured encouragingly, squeezing my hand. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," I said, and we made our way to the hotel lobby. Worried that we wouldn't be allowed to check in without an adult present, even for a family room, we had put together the best plan we could. It wasn't watertight, but hopefully it would work.

It was late afternoon by now, which we thought would be a busy time (when the hotel staff would be rushed and impatient, less likely to check us carefully), and sure enough there was a steady trickle of guests filtering in. We joined the queue for the desk, trying our best to look nonchalant. But when we reached the front I swallowed nervously; the receptionist was a tall woman with iron-grey hair and a face as stern and shrewd as McGonagall's. She took us both in with a glance and her eyes flicked behind us, clearly looking for our parents.

"Hello," Juliet said quickly, drawing her gaze back to us. "We have a family room booked. The name is Belstone." And she confidently put a ten and a twenty pound note on the desk. We had figured this would be the best approach, saving any complicated explanations for later if necessary. After all, perhaps she would just give us the key...

But sadly, she didn't. There was a long pause, then the receptionist asked mildly, not touching the money. "Are you on your own, girls?"

Expecting this, we both laughed immediately, as though this was a surprising question.

"No, of course not," I said, smiling my most innocent smile. "Mum and Dad are unloading the car. Er - we've got a  _lot_  of luggage."

"They asked us to go ahead, 'cause they're in a hurry," Juliet added, and we both waited, on tenterhooks. The receptionist looked at us, lips pursed.

"Um, Dad wanted us to check in quickly so we can get going, we've got a table booked for dinner," I said, when no key seemed forthcoming.

"We usually prefer the mother or father to check in a family," said the receptionist. "You'd better go and get them, girls."

We were both trying very hard not to give ourselves away with a nervous glance at each other. We had planned for this scenario but had very much hoped it wasn't going to happen.

Juliet took a deep breath. "Oh, okay!" she said brightly. "Hang on, Jennifer. I'll go and get Dad. Won't be a mo'."

I leaned firmly on the counter, elbows out, keeping our place at the front, rather than allowing the next person – an impatient-looking businessman – to come up to the desk. I knew I couldn't hold back the queue for long, and even when Juliet came back in just a minute later, the businessman was pressing forward. Juliet stepped smartly in front of him, saying loudly, "Hey, excuse me,  _we_  were first." In true British fashion he stepped back again, though his lips were pressed tightly together in frustration.

"Sorry," Juliet said to the receptionist. "Dad sent me back in here. Mum's gone over the road to get some toiletries she forgot and he hasn't finished getting all our stuff out of the car. He doesn't want to leave it all over the floor while he comes in here, or put it all back in again just to check in. He said he's made the reservation and he's given us the cash to pay so what's the problem, please?"

The receptionist frowned and tutted.

"I'm just passing on the message," Juliet said, shrugging, as I nudged the thirty pounds across the counter.

"Come on, love!" shouted a voice near the back of the queue. "We're all waiting."

"Yeah, give 'em the bloomin' key and don't be a jobsworth, their Dad'll be here any minute," chimed in another voice.

"Want us all to be here until Christmas?" said another irritably, and the receptionist sighed and – to our immense relief – picked up the cash and slid us the key.

"Very well. Room Ninety-Two," she said, and I took the key with a casual, "Thanks very much," as the businessman pushed forward, and commanded her attention.

We scampered upstairs, hearts pounding, and let ourselves in to the large, bleak-looking room with a furtive look over our shoulder.

"That was a close one," I said as we dropped our overnight bags on the floor and collapsed onto the largest bed with sighs of relief.

Juliet rubbed her face vigorously. "This is all a lot harder than I was hoping."

Then we looked at each other and started giggling for no reason – nerves, perhaps, and relief at having got away with so much. We rolled around on the bed for a while, laughing until tears came to our eyes. This was difficult and daunting, but actually, it was  _fun_. At last we calmed down, wiping our wet eyes. I gave a large hiccup, and grinned at my twin.

"I'm so glad you're back, Juliet," I said, and spontaneously we gave each other a sisterly hug, burying our faces in each other's long, dark, familiar hair.

"Well then," I said eventually, glancing outside. Dusk had fallen and in a couple of hours we would be meeting Zephyr. We had to get going.

Leaving was easier than getting in: we simply loitered in the corridor leading to the hotel lobby until a large group of guests pushed past us on their way out of the hotel, and attached ourselves to them, using the throng of bodies to shield us from the receptionist's sharp eyes.

We hopped on the bus back into Salisbury, and then onto the next – packed – shuttle bus to Stonehenge, gripping each others' hands tightly. My goodness...this was it. This was really it. As the night set in Salisbury suddenly seemed a very different place to earlier; strange people were drifting all around, and Juliet and I tried not to gape too openly at the other passengers during the ten-minute ride to the famous stone circle. Many were dressed very oddly, for Muggles at least, in flowing robes or long dresses in shades of rich earth-brown and leaf-green. Several had what appeared to be trailing plants entwined in their long tangled hair and one man was wearing actual antlers. They were knocked slightly askew on the bus ceiling when he got on.

But Salisbury and the bus were nothing –  _nothing_  – in comparison to Stonehenge itself.

When the bus pulled up in the car park and we spilled out with the other passengers, we stood for a while, stupefied. I had never seen so many people in my life in one place. Thousands – there must have been at least ten thousand – of people thronged so thickly around the ancient circle that only the tops of the great stones were visible. And the noise was unbelievable...everyone laughing, shouting, singing, whooping...

I stumbled and fell to one knee in the mud as a tall man in a thick cloak with a magnificent beard that fell to his patchwork leather shoes walked into me, and Juliet had to dart to one side to avoid being stampeded by a group of raucously singing people marching past...

"Come on!" Juliet yelled, yanking me upright. "Get to the stones!"

We fought our way through the crowds, here and there glimpsing quite astonishing sights. A woman with long, flowing hair dyed fiery red raised her arms to the sky as she chanted some strange song...a group of young men, stripped naked to the waist despite the freezing December air and light drizzle, dancing in a circle, their only clothing peculiar hairy leggings...someone spinning ropes blazing with fire that whirled and spat sparks, lighting up the inky-blue of night. The atmosphere was electric.

At last we reached the Stones, the mysterious, awe-inspiring monument erected by Neolithic people many thousands of years ago...Dad had told me once that they came from some remote mountains hundreds of miles away in Wales, the reason and method behind their transportation lost in the mists of time. This evening, the Winter Solstice, was one of the most sacred days for the Neolithic people.

Juliet rested her hand on the nearest rock and I saw her eyes widen slightly. "Can you hear it?" she said? "It's like it's humming – really far away humming."

I touched the rock too, and frowned, wondering what I was supposed to be hearing, and how on earth Juliet thought she could hear anything like that with all the noise around us.

"You know," said Juliet, running her hand down the stone in awe, "for the first time I – I reckon I understand what McGonagall meant when she said magic always leaves a trace. There's some deep, really old magic in these stones. I can feel it."

Well, I was losing interest quickly in this conversation, as the stone to me felt just like any other plain old rock. We needed to find Zephyr, but which the seventh stone was, I had absolutely no idea, now that we were here. They stood in a circle, so without knowing the first stone it was pretty much impossible to know which the seventh was. I peered at the people three stones away, who seemed to be gathered more purposefully than the rest of the crowds around, who were just drifting aimlessly. Someone had built a small fire near the base of the stone, whose flames were oddly bluish. Beside the fire, a gaggle of people were gathered around a tall man who was talking to them, his arms thrown open wide.

I nudged Juliet, breaking her out of her trance. She looked away from the stones and back at me. "Look!" I said, pointing at the tall man. "Do you think that's him? Zephyr?"

"Yeah, could be," Juliet said, after squinting at them for a while. "Let's go and see, shall we?"

We approached cautiously until we could see him more clearly; the leather jerkin he wore under his moss-coloured cloak, his tangled hair and beard which reached his waist. His nose was bulbous, and mottled red, and his eyes glittered in the dancing firelight. The people around the fireside were looking up at him with what seemed to be reverence. To my excitement I spotted the wand tucked into his belt: a long slim strip of wood with a carved handle patterned with leaves. It was this more than anything that gave me the courage to press forward, holding Juliet's hand tightly.

" _Teach us, Zephyr! Show us the path!"_ Came cries from the fireside, and the man Zephyr raised his hands higher towards the sky and seemed about to speak, when his gaze fell upon us (mostly because upon reaching him I had timidly tugged his sleeve; up to that point he had seemed oblivious to our presence).

"Who're you kids?" he said, bluntly. His eyes seemed to focus on my right shoulder, rather than my face.

He really was tall; gazing up, I felt my courage drain out of me. He had no idea who we were. I seemed to have lost the ability to speak, and stood there, frozen, glued to the spot.

Finally I heard Juliet speak up next to me.

"Please, um...Zephyr?" she croaked. "You told us to meet you here tonight. That you could help my sister – um, MidnightMoon?"

A couple of seconds ticked by which felt like minutes, and then his expression cleared.

"Of course, of course, my dear friends!" he cried and the atmosphere relaxed, his followers curious now. "Brothers, sisters –" addressing the group by the fire "— these girls have come to us tonight for the Ceremony!"

"Just my sister," Juliet added quickly, nudging me forward. Zephyr clasped my hands in his own, whose fingernails, I could see even in the firelight, were long and ingrained with earth.

"Yes, indeed, your sister," he boomed. "She has come to me to learn to unlock the powers within!"

The group called out their approval and one of the members threw something onto the fire, which crackled and turned the flames blue again. An acrid smell drifted up my nose and I coughed.

A cloud drifted away and suddenly we were all bathed in moonlight as well as the flickering blue flames...the scene was incredibly eerie. Someone was playing a mournful tune nearby on what sounded like wooden pan pipes.

Zephyr tugged an earthenware bottle from his pocket and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls, then thrust the bottle at me. "First, drink this!"

Hesitantly I took it and sniffed the contents, blinking at the fumes which hit my eyes. It smelled like sour fruit. "What is it?" I asked. I didn't like this. Something felt vaguely wrong, but I couldn't say what it was.

Zephyr chuckled. "A magic brew I whipped up myself. Something to help release your powers. We are starting the Ceremony. You want to find the magic within yourself? Then drink, drink deep..."

I looked at Juliet for guidance and she nodded encouragingly at me.  _The magic within myself_ , I thought, and my heart beat painfully. Yes, I did want that: so much. I took a huge gulp and came up coughing and spluttering. The thin liquid tasted of berries – but it burnt like fire all the way down my throat. I felt my eyes watering.

To my discomfort I heard low chuckles all around and suddenly Zephyr pushed me none too gently to the ground, tilting the bottle to my lips again. I flinched away automatically, but he took my chin and trickled more into my mouth. I swallowed, gasping, and felt my head starting to spin. Was it working? Was the potion releasing my magic?

In a slight haze, I thought I noticed Zephyr take another quick swig himself before tucking the bottle back into his belt.

"First – we comb the hair! A woman's power is in her locks!" said Zephyr's voice from above, and one of the group, a young woman with hair in a long plait, came forward with a white comb that looked as though it was made of bone. She smiled down at me. The followers swayed and chanted as the young woman drew the comb repeatedly through my hair – I tried not to wince when it hit a knot.

My head was spinning even more and I felt as though I was floating. Meanwhile Zephyr was stamping in a circle around me, singing a weird song which seemed to have no real words but sounded like a cross between a howling wolf and a dog which was being kicked. Every now and then he took a pinch of some little dried leaves from a leather pouch and sprinkled them into the fire. And every now and then he took out his bottle, and forced me to take another swig. Everything around me was starting to look faintly blurred and anxiously I searched in the crowd for Juliet; blinking, I saw a wild-looking boy in his late teens, with dark curling hair, tugging at her elbow. He was tucking another earthenware bottle into her hand: the others around the fire all seemed to be drinking from the same little bottles.

"Have some too!" the curly-haired lad yelled. "Then you can help!"

"How will it help?" Juliet shouted back, clutching the bottle as he danced away.

"You'll see!" He laughed at her. "Just try it!"

I saw Juliet bite her lip then take a gulp of the magic brew. Immediately she choked and gasped just as I had... The flickering light thrown on the group by the fire was suddenly making everything look strange to me, and I shut my eyes. I was starting to feel sick and oddly disconnected, released from my physical body. But it made sense that I should find my hidden powers more easily in this detached state. Didn't it? I tried to follow that thought again, to check if it was logical – but couldn't hold onto it somehow, it floated away like a soap bubble.

When I half-opened my eyes again I flinched and tried to shuffle backwards. Zephyr was crouched right in front of me and he caught hold of my shoulder, grinning at me as he smeared a muddy paste onto my face and muttering weird words. His eyes looked unfocused and he smelled awful, like something left outside to rot. My head hurt even more and I felt scared; the feeling I'd had earlier, that something was wrong, intensified. I wanted to get away; but suddenly Zephyr gave a triumphant whoop and yanked me to my feet.

To my horror he poured the rest of his earthenware bottle over my head – I felt the cold, sticky liquid soak through my hair and trickle down my face, my neck, and I moaned and tried to pull away. But Zephyr's grip on my wrist was like iron. He pulled the wand from his belt and pointing it at the sky as he capered wildly, leading me by the hand to stumble after him. "Dance, dance!" he burbled. "Seek the power within on this most sacred of nights!"

The followers were still clapping and chanting, as Zephyr spun me around. This was so wrong; we needed to leave, but I was dancing, stumbling, spinning against my will...I glimpsed Juliet's face in a blur, looking as suddenly panicked and horrified as I felt.

"Stop!" she yelled, pushing forward, and I willed for her to rescue me. " _Stop!_ "

Juliet reached me, fingertips outstretched, just as Zephyr whirled me around again, with another warbling cry of "Dance!" – and let go. I sailed past his stupid grinning face as I twirled once with the momentum: then fell almost gracefully to the ground, feeling like a puppet whose strings have been cut, and my hand tumbled into the edge of the blue fire.

A terrible, searing pain: then I heard myself scream like a wounded hare, jerking my hand from the flames.


	11. A January Promise

_December, 2018._

Juliet

"Jennifer! Jennifer!" I screamed, throwing myself to the wet earth beside my sister and clutching her tightly to me. She was sobbing now, her burnt hand curled close to her chest.

" _WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"_  I yelled, looking furiously up at Zephyr and his followers – but they were gone. Vanished into the crowds like a bunch of scared rabbits. I stared wildly about, seething with anger and shock, but there was no sign of any of them.

I spat a string of foul names into the oblivious backs of the crowd, before Jennifer lurched in my arms and vomited copiously onto the grass.

My head was still spinning horribly and I don't really know how I did it; but somehow I led Jennifer away from the mad throng, and onto the shuttle bus back into Salisbury. Back in the town, I half-carried her onto a bench outside a convenience store wrapped in both our coats for extra warmth: she was shivering uncontrollably. I told her shakily to wait while I found something to treat her hand. After staggering about in the cold December night air for a while I was starting to think straight again, although I felt quite nauseous.

Two minutes later I was back with a small tub of burn cream, which I had slipped from the shelf into my pocket when I realised we only had twenty pence left in our purse. I had pretended to inspect a couple of packets of crisps before strolling out as nonchalantly as possible, knowing I was flushing. I had never shoplifted a thing in my life, and ushered Jennifer up of the bench and to the bus stop with many a quick glance behind, terrified the owner would clock the theft and come running after me. But the street remained quiet and still. At last the bus arrived, lit by warm yellow lights, and Jennifer and I got on. The bus driver looked us up and down, taking in our bedraggled appearance and our age. Luckily, Jennifer's face – still streaked with tears and the berry drink – was shadowed by her coat hood.

"You girlies by yourselves?" he queried, as he stamped our return tickets – and held onto them despite my outstretched hand.

"We're on our way back to our parents," I said quickly, the lies somehow tripping easily off my tongue now that I'd told so many. "We got separated by accident but they said to get this bus and they'll be waiting for us."

"Oh, all right then, love," said the driver, and handed over the ticket, to my relief. "Glad to hear that."

We climbed to the privacy of the upper deck, and the bus sped on its way. Jennifer recovered a little on the journey as I inspected the damage to her hand. To my relief it wasn't too bad – three fingers and half her palm were red and blistering, but I had thought it was going to be worse. Very gently I rubbed in the burn ointment, lots of it. The white cream felt cool and soothing on my own fingers. Jennifer winced, but said softly, "Thanks, Juliet."

She wasn't shaking so violently anymore and she took several deep breaths as we leaned together on the upper deck of the bus. "We've been idiots," she whispered eventually, with more than a trace of bitterness.

"I know," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Jen. I should have known it was just stupid, crazy Muggle stuff."

Jennifer stared down at her burned hand, greasy with cream, cradled in her lap. "You know what...I think I did all along. I just – hoped. I wanted to be with you at Hogwarts so much."

When she said this, I realised I felt the same; perhaps I had, really, known all along this wasn't the real thing. I had just convinced myself, in my desperation.

"And your poor hand," I whispered, gently touching her blistered palm. "We did what Gavin Hooker tried to do six years ago with that match. Now we're...we're not exactly the same."

Jennifer smiled just a little sadly, but then shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Juliet. It doesn't matter if people can tell us apart in future. What matters goes much deeper than  _that."_

I put my arm around my sister and pulled her close, feeling a great wave of love for her envelope me. We stayed like this until the bus rolled up to our stop. The bus driver peered out, looking for our parents, so I forced a smile as we stepped off the bus and waved into the darkness, shouting "Hey Mum! Hey Dad!" as I marched confidently away, Jennifer following more slowly. Soon I heard the bus rumble away behind me and two minutes later we were outside the hotel. It was still drizzling. Jennifer took off the extra coat I had made her wear to help alleviate the shock, and wrapped it round me. "You'll freeze," she said simply, and refused to take it back. We hung around for a few minutes, hoping to slip in behind a group of other guests as we had done on our way out earlier. But it was so late, now, and everything was dead quiet: the hotel squatted before us, still and silent.

Eventually I peered into the lobby. There was a different person now at the desk, a small man with straw-coloured hair, not the suspicious woman receptionist from the afternoon.

"Come on," I murmured to Jennifer. "Let's just slip quietly up to our room. Act confident."

I smiled politely at the new receptionist as we walked past him to the door to the rooms.

"Evening..." he said, watching us.

I didn't linger. "Good evening!" I replied brightly, pulling Jennifer through the door. But as the door shut behind me I saw the man reach for something on the desk. My stomach fluttered a little in panic but he didn't come after us, and we carried on hurrying up the stairs to the first floor...

Where the stern-faced receptionist was waiting at the top, phone in one hand and her eyes boring into mine.

"Yes, thank you, Nick, these are the ones," she said into the phone, and hung up, as we stared up at her, Jennifer's hood falling back. Oh heck. Under the artificial white glare of the hotel lighting my sister looked even worse that I had realised. Her eyes were red and puffy and her face was pale apart from the strange purple stains that trickled down from her sticky, matted hair over which Zephyr had poured the last of the bottle's contents. The receptionist's sharp eyes took in her blistered hand and she sniffed. I realised then how strongly we both smelled of berry fumes – and Jennifer, a little, of vomit.

"Right, then. Downstairs, you two," said the receptionist with the kind of quiet authority nobody argues with. And soon we were back in the lobby, huddled on the brown leather sofa, in silent resignation. We'd been found out. There were no lies that would get us out of this: she had waited for our parents to turn up earlier, had checked that they had not, and left instructions with the next shift to inform her if and when we showed up again.

I refused to explain Jennifer's burned hand to this stranger, or to explain what we had been doing, but I had no choice but to give her Mum and Dad's mobile numbers when she informed us she would be dropping us at the police station unless we gave her a point of contact. Clearly, she thought we had run away from home.

I couldn't bear to listen to the conversation she had with Dad, who picked up on the third try, seventy miles away in Guildford. She had probably woken him up: it was past midnight.

Just an hour later Mum and Dad walked into the lobby, looking angrier than I had ever seen them. Mum was actually shaking with fury and shock. Dad pulled us both roughly towards the door as he muttered his thanks to the receptionist. We allowed ourselves to be manhandled into the car. Neither of them spoke a word until we were speeding along the main road, and then finally Mum said in a tight, clipped voice.

"You'd better explain yourselves very,  _very_  well, you two. Let's hear it."

I felt numb. How could I possibly explain it...they would never understand. Eventually I choked, "I – we – oh, Mum, Dad, we're so sorry!"

At this, Dad finally exploded. "SORRY?  _SORRY?_  IT'S TWO IN THE MORNING! WE HAVE JUST PICKED YOU UP FROM A GODAWFUL HOTEL WHEN YOU TOLD US YOU WERE STAYING WITH A FRIEND FROM SCHOOL! YOU'VE BEEN LYING TO US THROUGH YOUR TEETH FOR WEEKS, THE PAIR OF YOU! WE DON'T BLOODY  _CARE_  IF YOU'RE SORRY!"

Dad had never sworn at us before. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt Jennifer's shoulder quietly shake with sobs beside me.

"Jennifer looks as though she's been attacked, you don't look much better, now  _what – on – earth – were you two up to_?" Dad wasn't driving very carefully; he was so angry he nearly went through a red light, swore again, and hit the brakes so hard we were all thrown forwards in our seats.

"We went to the Solstice," I blurted out at last. "We – oh, but it was so stupid, and it went completely wrong, please don't be angry, Dad, please..."

The mention of the Solstice knocked them both completely flat for a second. Then Mum twisted round in her seat to look at us.

"The Winter Solstice at Stonehenge? Are you crazy, Juliet? What on  _earth_  possessed you? And  _what happened to Jennifer?_ "

"She – she burnt her hand by accident – there was a ceremony that got kind of out of hand..."

"I can see that," said Mum icily. "And I can smell the booze on you a mile off. Sloe gin, and a lot of it. I would  _never_  have believed that my two girls would do this."

It was the disappointment behind her anger which finally did it.

"We thought," I mumbled, "that someone there knew how to make Jennifer into a witch."

Mum and Dad both went very quiet and I saw them exchange looks.

"But," I continued, the disappointment and shock of the evening, which had been burning in the pit of my stomach all evening, suddenly rising up into my throat and making it hard to speak, "they didn't. They didn't know anything. It was all fake magic." I finished the sentence in a croak, on the edge of tears again.

I could see Dad watching Jennifer in his rear view mirror, huddled completely silently in the back. He turned suddenly off the road and I realised we were pulling into a local hospital.

"We'll get Jennifer's hand checked here before we go home," was all he said.

We didn't get home until five a.m.

The good thing about Mum and Dad, though, was that as a rule they didn't bear grudges, and they considered fair punishment enough to bring any matter to a close. Despite the enormity of our misdemeanour this time was no exception. They had a long, stern talk with us both the next day, during which we were informed our pocket money would be stopped for the next six months, and that we would both make up for our escapade by spending several days of our holidays making ourselves useful (I cleaned the car inside and out, and helped Dad repaint the spare room; Jennifer, with her injured hand, did less physical work such as reorganising the files in the family bureau, shredding old bank statements, and slowly typing out Mum's invoices for her illustration commissions). It was also, obviously, made very clear that they expected us never,  _ever_  to do any such thing again.

After these few days, the storm, by mutual agreement, blew over, and Christmas Day was pretty much its usually cheery affair. Jennifer's hand was indeed not too bad. She would always have a shiny, jagged-edged scar across her palm but the hospital dressing came off after a few days and it healed quickly and cleanly.

Two weeks of holiday sounded a long time at the beginning but on the other side of Christmas the start of the next Hogwarts term felt so much closer. The days seemed to rush by in a blur. The more I slipped back into the routine and comfort of home, and the familiarity of my sister's company, the less inclined I felt to head back to Hogwarts, which seemed a distant dream. I spent almost every waking moment with Jennifer, but all too soon we were back at King's Cross – Jennifer with me this time as her term started the day after – and I was stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, then off again for one last, fierce hug with my sister, Artemis and Apollo hooting to each other – and then, I was speeding northwards again, alone...

Wanting to surprise her with an unexpected letter, I wrote a little note to Jennifer right there on the Hogwarts Express, and launched Artemis out of the train window with it when we were a half an hour into the journey, instead of waiting until the following morning. I put a postscript at the bottom of the letter to voice my so far unspoken resolution:

_P.S. If there is another, genuine, way to do this, I promise I will find it._


	12. Tara

_January, 2019_

Jennifer

Yesterday the Hogwarts Express whisked Juliet far away for a second term, and I found myself facing the thing I had been dreading for the whole of the Christmas holidays: going back to Greenhill Academy. For several glorious weeks I'd convinced myself that we would find the answer at Stonehenge; that I would discover my magical powers and join Juliet at her school.

I longed to be with Juliet -  _like_  Juliet! There were days when I was consumed with envy, however hard I tried not to be. I knew Juliet was unhappy at Hogwarts without me, and I knew she missed me like crazy and hadn't made friends there. I also knew she was scared of the ghosts and didn't feel at home in the castle, which she always described as huge and creepy. But still, she was  _there_ ; in the school I felt I knew intimately from her letters. A magnificent castle on a mountainside, surrounded by lakes and forests inhabited by magical creatures, delicious food that appeared magically on tables, the high-up Owlery where Artemis lived,  _flying_  lessons, and a four-poster bed in a tall tower with an enchanted doorknob to get past! It was like something from the fairy-tales we'd read as small children, and letters weren't enough...I wanted to see it, touch it, learn magic there myself. Juliet loved her lessons, I knew that, and she was soaking up new magical skills like a sponge.

What happened at the Winter Solstice was the bitterest disappointment of my life. I felt such an idiot – how I could have thought such a load of tarot-card loving, incense-sniffing, sloe-gin-slugging Muggles in fancy dress were the real thing, I don't know, except that I was blinded by desire. I was determined not to be so stupid again.

I'd tried to act normally and pull myself together, for Juliet. I'd seen how horrified she was at the ceremony and afterwards, and her guilt over my scarred hand. So I stayed close to her all the Christmas holidays, pretending I was fine, and it was harder than all the pretence of the previous term.

I hadn't been totally honest with Juliet, you see. In my many letters I'd never let on what life at Greenhill Academy was really like...I had told her everything about my teachers, the school itself, what I was doing in class (Maths! Geography! As if anyone cared about those when you could be learning Charms and Transfiguration). I wanted to tell her, so badly, as I'd told her everything before, but I knew I couldn't, or she would do what I'd do in her place: quit Hogwarts and come back to protect me. And then she'd be taken away and shut up, by the Ministry of Magic, and I'd lose her... Juliet knew I'd not made any friends. As we were each the only friend the other had ever needed, she hadn't seen it as a problem; as I hadn't either, not really, I suppose. But I hadn't told her about Them.

They had made my life a misery from day one. Two years older than me, four Year Nine kids already bored with school and looking for entertainment to spice up their dull lives. Withdrawn, quiet, lost without my twin sister and unable to find my footing in Greenhill Academy, I was an easy target. Most of the Greenhill kids took no notice of me, I was invisible to them. But They noticed me. I was someone they could easily have fun with.

It had started with little things. Chewing gum in my hair. Paper pellets pinged at me, and legs stuck out to trip me in the corridors. It grew with time and confidence. A note stealthily pinned to the back of my jumper proclaiming that I was a 'tart who was up for everything', which I found, horrified, after an afternoon of snickers and sly comments. A wet tablet of brown watercolour paint left on my chair leaving me with a revolting stain all over the back of my skirt, and snide questions afterwards asking whether I'd shit myself. When I tried to ignore them, not to react, so as to give them no entertainment, they had simply upped the game.

The last thing they had done before the holidays was steal the contents of my lunchbox and replace it with live worms and a foul, rotting snail. I had nearly thrown up when the stench hit my nostrils and I saw the writhing mass inside. I had thrown the lot in some bushes and washed the lunch box out in the girls' toilets, so Mum wouldn't find out, just as I had explained away the skirt stain and other things as accidents or my own carelessness. She and Dad would only make a huge fuss and storm in, demanding to see the Head. They would be punished, and then things would get much worse, I knew it.

The only thing that had got me through last term was the thought that over Christmas I might have become a witch and never need to go back there again.

But now it was the third of January, the skies were heavy with unfallen snow, and it was time to leave the house.

"Are you all right, Jennifer, love?" said Mum, as she handed me my coat. "You look a bit peaky."

"I'm fine."

"You're missing your sister, aren't you?" she asked softly. I sighed. Of course I was missing Juliet. That was like asking a double amputee if he missed his legs, and it didn't help to be constantly asked. Still, Mum continued with her platitudes. "It's only twelve weeks until the Easter holidays, darling. Have you written to her already?"

"I know. And I wrote to her last night. I'm fine, Mum, honest. See you later."

"'Bye, love..."

Hood up against the icy wind, I walked slowly to the bus stop, thinking about Juliet's last letter. She had written it on the Hogwarts Express so that it would come as a surprise – although, of course, it wasn't really as I would have done the same thing to surprise her. It was still as good as ever to untie her notes from Artemis' leg and find out what she was doing. Her daily briefing, however sick with longing it made me – and I never let on how much, as I still wanted to know what was happening at Hogwarts – filled the emptiness in my life caused by her physical absence.

The bus was a council-run public bus that stopped close by, not a school one, and on a different route from Theirs. So at least my journeys were hassle-free. But the closer the bus pulled to Greenhill, the bitterer I felt. Everything about its square, squat, functional building and neat green grounds screamed NOT HOGWARTS! It just wasn't  _fair_  that I was going back here. The whole situation had always reeked with injustice, but it was even worse now my hopes had been dashed. And as for Them...they would be waiting for me, I knew, and suddenly I realised things were different this term. I was angry now, angrier than I had ever been. Last term, consumed only with thoughts of getting to Hogwarts, only at Greenhill in body and not spirit, I had acted like a wet rag around them – allowed myself to be pushed around and trodden on. Now, full of disappointment and bitterness, I felt my fury at being left behind again simmering in the pit of my stomach, ready to erupt.

They left me alone until midway through lunchtime; lulling me into a false sense of security, perhaps. I had hidden myself away behind a tree outside the Maths block, and, to ease the ache inside me from missing Juliet, had taken her last letter out of my schoolbag to reread. The only people close at the time were a small gaggle of Year Tens, discreetly sharing a cigarette away from the watchful eyes of the supervising lunch teacher, and they didn't seem interested in me.

But halfway through reading, the letter was snatched from my hands. They had found me. Spiteful Sandy Meadows with her cold green eyes and freckles; Sabrina Khan, sleek as a Siamese cat; Arash Mojabi, a born thug; and Robbie Townsend, who clowned around but had a nasty streak not everyone saw. Sandy was holding the letter, her long painted nails like claws.

I stood up, blood running cold. "Give that back!"

"What's wrong, Twitchy?" purred Sabrina, and the others laughed. Sabrina had dubbed me Twitchy last term when Robbie had dropped a large beetle down my neck, causing me to shriek and flap frantically until I had clawed the awful scuttling thing out of my blouse.

"Ahh, look, Twitchy has a letter, how  _quaint_..."

Arash guffawed. "From her sister who can't bear to be at the same school as her!" This was a running joke, since they had found out, early on, that I was a twin.

"Give. It.  _Back._ " I snapped, the anger that had been bubbling in me all day rising in my chest, and made a grab for the letter. Sandy held it above her head.

"Let's have a read then!" she said, shaking it open and squinting at it, against the sky. " _Dear Jennifer...I'm on the train and miss you to pieces already_...awww..." I made another swipe for it, jumping and missing. "Here, Sabrina, have a read..."

"That's private!  _Hey!_ "

Sabrina, who was even taller than Sandy, took the letter with casual elegance, holding it high above my reach, and picked out a few choice lines. " _The trolley witch has just been and I bought you a magic chocolate frog, I'll send it with Artemis...I have a Charms lesson tomorrow, I'm looking forward to practising the shrinking spell we started before Christmas..."_ she drawled, her eyes widening as she realised how peculiar the letter was. "What's this? Little Twitchy plays  _pretend games_ with her sister! Oh, how  _adorable_... she's pretending she's a witch and does ickle magic spells!"

The others burst out laughing. "Are you a witch, too, Twitchy?" grinned Arash, poking me painfully in the ribs as I continued to reach fruitlessly for the letter, spitting incoherently now.

"Twitchy Witchy!" said Robbie, wittily, which drew another gale of laughter from the four of them.

"Let's see you magic a rabbit out of a hat then!"

"Don't forget to say  _abracadabra! Or is it 'shala-kazaam!'?_ "

"Where's your wand, Twitchy Witchy?"

Finally I erupted, all the pent-up rage from the last five months at once released in an explosion of fury. Completely losing control, I clawed savagely at Sabrina's smug face so that she screamed and dropped the letter, and when Robbie reached for it, I threw myself on top of him, kicking and biting like a wildcat. He bellowed and thrashed, overbalancing and crashing to the ground. Taken by surprise, the others took a moment to react, but then Arash had my arms and Sandra had my legs, and they pulled me off him as Sabrina snivelled, clutching her face. My nails were bitten to the quick, so I'd left barely a scratch, just a reddish mark, but her dark eyes with their long lashes were flashing furiously at me.

Robbie was still groaning, dazed, on the ground as I flailed, helplessly trapped. Sabrina moved forwards, her long fingers and painted nails outstretched and yanked up my sleeve to reveal the smooth, soft flesh of my underarm. She was going to give me the worst Chinese burn I had ever had in revenge, I knew it. Yelling and twisting, I struggled to release myself from Arash and Sandra's iron grip.

"What's going on here?"

They let go immediately and I fell painfully onto the gravel, panting. We all looked round, expecting a teacher, but it was one of the Year Tens from the gaggle nearby who had been smoking quietly in the corner. The older girl had short, spiky black hair and startlingly blue eyes heavily ringed with eyeliner, and when she spoke I saw the flash of a tongue piercing.

"None of your business," Sabrina hissed venomously as Robbie and I picked ourselves up, and I scrabbled to grab Juliet's trampled letter, and stuff it back into my bag. Robbie had the beginnings of a magnificent black eye and he gave me a funny look, with a hint of respect in it.

"Actually, it is my business when four teenagers pick on one little kid. About to beat her up, were you? How very  _brave_. Think you're big, now, Sandra?" (She called Sandy a word so bad, I went bright red.)

Arash and Sandra just shrugged, though Robbie actually looked a little embarrassed. Sabrina's eyes were still narrowed, the red mark on her face not quickly forgotten.

"Get out of it, the lot of you," said the older girl laconically, draping her arm around my shoulders. "Go on – scram. C'mon, kid." And she steered me away.

Sandra and the others sloped away, probably as confused by this sudden turn of events as I was myself. Soon I found myself staring up timidly at the group of Year Ten students, who had stopped passing round their cigarette to eye me with interest.

"What've you got here, Tara?" queried a pretty, plump girl with dyed white-blonde hair and her skirt rolled up so high I blinked and averted my eyes so as not to see her knickers. She was holding the remains of the cigarette and I coughed as the smoke blew into my face. She looked amused, but ground it out all the same. "Sorry, kid."

"Fucking Sandra Meadows and the rest of that gang having a bit of fun with this one," said Tara drily. "She's got spunk though, did you see her go for that big lad? Teeth and nails, teeth and nails...I like a girl with guts."

"Little tiger, eh?" grinned a Jamaican lad with dreadlocks and a wide, open smile. "That's the way to show 'em, man."

I felt my cheeks redden. "Hey - thanks for helping me out," I said croakily. "Do you – d'you know Sandy, then?"

"Since she was in nappies," said Tara scornfully. "Sandra lives in my road. Nasty piece of work, her Dad left when she was three and her mother drinks like a fish, and I don't blame either of them, I would if I were them. 'Sandy', is she now? She probably thinks that makes her sound like a film star. Porn star, more like."

This was a revelation about Sandy. I even felt a little sorry for her, though Tara looked nothing but dismissive. I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

"Anyway, hey, so this is the gang," said Tara, waving her hand at the group. "This is Lennie," – the student with dreadlocks – "and Jasmin," indicating the blonde girl. "Zac," – a slender, long-legged black student who somehow wore his uniform with such grace it looked stylish. "And Ben." Ben was a girl whose short dark-brown hair framed a pale, elfish face.

I was awful with introductions, and completely unused to this kind of casual friendliness. After a while, all I managed was a shy look at Ben, whose name surprised me, and: "Um, hi. I'm Jennifer Belstone...I'm in Year Seven...why are you called Ben?"

The gang laughed, and so did the girl called Ben. "I'm Brenda really," she said, pretending to shudder. "But I hate it. It's a granny name. And when I was really little I couldn't say my 'r's so I called myself Ben-da and it became Ben, which stuck. I much prefer it."

I grinned at her, liking her openness. "It suits you."

There was an amicable silence, then Zac spoke up, his thumb hooked elegantly through his backpack strap. "Anyway, don't you worry no more about those kids that were giving you trouble," he said. "You're with us, now, they'll leave you alone. We'll see to it."

"Or I will," grinned Tara. "You wouldn't hurt a fly, Zac, and you know it. You're a pushover really, you softie."

I looked around at the little circle, gratitude swelling in me, mingled with a great relief. Did I really have the protection of this band of Year Ten students? Tara seemed to me almost like a guardian angel – an angel with spiky hair and a tongue piercing!

"Shake on it," said Tara, winking and putting out her hand. "We'll look out for you, kiddo."

I shook each of their hands in turn, flushing with pleasure.

"What on earth have you done to your hand?" said Zac, frowning and flipping my palm over. The puckered skin of the burn scar looked gruesome in the cold light of the oppressive yellowy sky.

"Oh, that," I said, blushing even more and pulling my hand back, curling up my fingers. "It's nothing. I did it over Christmas...it's a long story."

"Looks like a burn," said Zac, with concern. "God, your parents don't – do bad stuff to you, do they?"

"Oh, no!" I said, horrified that he could even think such a thing about Mum and Dad. "No –  _never_. I had an accident at Stonehenge – at the Winter Solstice."

"You went to the  _Solstice_  at Stonehenge?" said Tara in amazement. "You? It gets pretty wild there, doesn't it? You went with your parents, obviously..."

"Actually I went with my sister...I have a twin sister...um, it's a long story, but we ran away for the weekend to go there and - well, I got a bit drunk and sort of fell into someone's fire."

Everyone was looking at me with renewed interest.

"Hang on. You ran away from home with your twin sister to go to a winter rave at Stonehenge and got pissed there, and you're, what, eleven? You're having us on, right?" This was from Jasmin.

"No, not at all. I don't usually do that kind of thing, though."

"Well," said Jasmin. "If that's right, you, kiddo, are a hell of a lot more interesting than you look."

I wasn't sure if this was a compliment or not, so I just gave a half-smile and said nothing.

"Too right she is," said Tara. "I'm glad I came across you today, Jennifer. I say we have a celebratory fag together."

This was met by an appreciative cheer as Tara pulled out a near-empty pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"Oh, um," I said stupidly as she offered it to me. I couldn't smoke that, it smelled foul. Besides, cigarettes cause lung cancer! And what would Mum and Dad say if they smelt it on me?

"Go on," laughed Tara. "I know you don't smoke, you're so sweet and innocent, aren't you? But just a puff. It'll make you one of us properly."

I hesitated, then took the horrible thing with clumsy fingers and sucked on it briefly to get it over with. Next second I was coughing and gasping as the filthy smoke poured into my lungs.

Everyone laughed and Lennie thumped me on the back until I stopped spluttering.

"There you go, kid," said Tara. "One of us."

And she took a deep drag, her bold eyes twinkling at me, just as the snow which had been hanging heavy in the high skies all day slowly started to fall...


	13. Rescued

_January, 2019_

Jennifer

There was only one incident, after that day. It turned out Sabrina Khan didn't easily let go of grudges, and her scratched face hadn't been forgiven or forgotten.

She and Arash Mojabi had caught me alone after school, on the short walk from the school gates to the bus stop. Sabrina must have been watching me closely, cat-fashion, waiting to pounce; thuggish Arash, evidently, had been persuaded to help her conduct her revenge.

Until then I hadn't realised at all that Sabrina, when angered, bordered on psychotic. She had slammed me against the side wall of the school building, out of sight of the stream of pupils leaving the gates, and I'd gasped in pain as she clawed her fingers through my hair, twisting tightly, and hissing, "Scream, and I'll put it out at the roots". Tears sprang to my eyes as I waited, terrified, for whatever revenge she was about to take. To my horror she pulled out a clear Tupperware box containing a large, leggy house spider; it skittered around inside as she held it up to my face to see my reaction. My eyes had widened and I'd not been able to help jerking my head to the side to try to get further away. Sabrina had smiled triumphantly.

"Don't like spiders, twitchy witchy?" she'd purred. "What a pity. I caught this one just for you. They taste  _dee_ -licious. Why don't you...have a try?"

As soon as she'd said "taste" I'd started thrashing in terror, jaw clenched tightly shut – but Arash, grinning inanely, held me against the wall with one thick arm and pinched my nostrils together with his free hand until I was struggling for breath. Sabrina snapped the lid off the Tupperware and casually scooped the wriggling spider up between her long fingers.

I probably would have fainted from lack of oxygen before I would ever have opened my mouth but to my everlasting relief I was never to find out.

Lennie's massive fist came out of nowhere, hitting Arash squarely in the side of the head so that he let out an  _oof_  of pain and fell heavily on the gravel. Head spinning, I sucked in great lungfuls of air, gasping like a fish. Then Tara was there too, and the others closed in, and before I knew it Sabrina was whimpering in Lennie's headlock. Zac, Ben and Jasmin all sat on Arash to keep him quiet while Tara wrenched the (now limp) spider from Sabrina's fingers and thrust it close to her mouth.

"Think that was funny, did you?" Tara snarled, ferocious. "How would you like to eat it yourself, bitch?"

Sabrina started to thrash just as hard as I had done, trying desperately to wriggle out of Lennie's headlock. Evidently holding a spider was one thing for her; eating it was another matter.

Tara held the spider right up against Sabrina's face for a few more long seconds, then finally dropped the dead thing with disdain onto the pavement. "Well, I won't, 'cause luckily I'm not an utter sicko, like you. So we'll forget it, yeah? But next time you try anything –  _anything_  – you won't get off easy like this. Eating fucking spiders'll be the least of your worries. I'll be watching you. Got that, bitch?"

Sabrina nodded as best she could while in the headlock; a small, scared child now, nothing like her usual sleek self, and Lennie released her from the headlock. A frightened tear rolled down her cheek as she stumbled away, Arash behind her; and as my friends – my incredible friends – gathered round me in concern, smoothing my tangled hair, checking I was okay, I knew she would never dare bother me again.

I wrote to Juliet that evening. I had felt bad about not telling her before, but I just couldn't have had her coming back to try to protect me. I'd been putting it off since last week, unsure how she would react; but now I was safe, it was time. I kept the letter simple, though, not wanting to let on how bad the bullying had been, and hesitant about letting on how warmly I felt towards Tara and the others. We'd never had any friends outside each other; it felt like a tiny betrayal, but at the same time surely she would be pleased for me? My letter read:

_Dear Juliet,_

_Your Transfiguration lesson yesterday sounded incredible: I can't believe Professor McGonagall can turn herself into a cat! Amazing to have a Headmistress who has that power and comes to a lesson to demonstrate! Our Head isn't half as exciting. She does smell quite strongly of cats, though._

_Something unexpected has happened this week. I didn't mention it before because I knew you'd worry...but I was being bullied a bit last term. It's all right now though – a group of Year Tens rescued me last week when they were teasing me! And again today when one of the girls tried to do something quite nasty. They scared her so bad she won't go near me again, I know._

_I'm hanging out with the Year Tens at break times now. They are cool, especially Tara, who is kind of the ringleader, I guess. You'd like her, even though she's nothing like us. She smokes and has piercings and isn't scared of anything. The others are called Zac, Jasmin, Lennie, and Ben (who is a girl)._

_Anyway I hope your flying lesson was okay today, it's freezing here so must be way worse in Scotland, I'm not surprised you didn't much fancy it!_

_Love,_

_Jennifer  
x_

A little weight rose off my shoulders as I watched Apollo disappear into the inky black January sky, headed north as true as an arrow. It was a relief to know that by morning Juliet would no longer be in the dark about my school experiences. And although I expected her to be a little hurt, she'd surely soon forgive me. After all, she couldn't be cross at me for long. She was the one who had been picked to have all the fun at Hogwarts.

My thoughts were troubled that night, though, by something else. I had replayed the scene with Sabrina and the spider in my head over and over. Though I was wildly grateful to Tara and the others, I couldn't help feeling uncomfortable about how pathetic I'd been, how fruitlessly I'd struggled, like a kitten in the mouth of a Rottweiler. And I'd thought, even then, how if I had been a witch everything would've been different. With a wave of my wand I would've been able to curse Sabrina and Arash until they were no more than crawling, helpless slugs.

Juliet would know jinxes already to fend off people like them. Witches and wizards, with power at their fingertips, would never have got into that situation in the first place. If anything, what had happened today had only hardened my resolve, weakened a little over Christmas after the fiasco at Stonehenge. I wanted to be magic. Oh, I wanted it so much: I'd be a different person, strong and independent!

As I sank into sleep, I resolved to ask Juliet in my next letter if she'd had any more luck in the Hogwarts library.

* * *

The next day Sabrina gave me a wide berth, to my immense satisfaction, as did Arash. Sandy had lost interest in me the week before, preferring to look for easier prey, I suppose.

Something weird happened in the corridor between my Maths and P.E. class, though. I bumped into Robbie Townsend in the throng of students, and automatically shied away. But he caught my arm to stop me and I realised – of all things – he was grinning at me. His left eye was still a faint bluish-yellow from our tussle last week. To my amazement, he stuck out his hand.

"Hey, erm – look. We were out of order, you know, last term...you're all right, really. Never had a girl give me a black eye before. I just wanted to say – well, sorry, I guess. Friends?"

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and ignored the expectant hand. This jerk helped make my life living hell for nearly half a year and now all of a sudden he's playing Mr Nice Guy? I didn't think so.

"Thanks for the apology," I said coolly, and brushed past him, adding, "But you've  _got_  to be joking."

From the glimpse I got of Robbie's face as I walked away, he looked angry and put out. Well, that was his problem; I knew who my real friends were and none of them had ever dropped beetles down my neck.

I sought Tara and the gang out at lunch time in our corner of the playground; they talked a  _lot_  about embarrassing things like sex (something I never even discussed with Juliet, I mean, yuck, right?) and laughed when they saw how much I was blushing. It was good-humoured, though. The cigarette smoke that perpetually hung around the group still made me cough a little, but oddly I found its presence comforting. It meant I was around friends. And it was – well, it was a good feeling.

* * *

Juliet's reply, waiting for me when I came back from school, blew my fragile new bubble of happiness to pieces. I saw immediately from her jagged handwriting and many ink blots the way in which her furious quill had scratched out her response.

 _JENNIFER! You are seriously telling me you were bullied all last term and you_ never mentioned it _? Not to_ me _? I just can't believe you did that. I thought you'd told me everything, like I tell YOU everything! You can't just miss out stuff like that so I 'don't worry'! That's not what we do!_

' _Teasing'? 'Tried to do something quite nasty'? Why are you being so vague?_ What _did they do to you? What else are you keeping from me?_

_And I'm stunned you figured you'd get help from random strangers instead of me – I thought we didn't need other people! I thought I was your best friend!_

_Apparently I'm not!_

The letter ended abruptly there. She hadn't even signed it, and I read and reread it in growing disbelief. My initial reaction was to be upset: we so rarely argued, Juliet and I, because we never disagreed. Arguing with my twin, well, it was like arguing with myself; that was silly, what was the point? But as I sat on my bed clutching the letter, my unhappiness was swiftly overtaken by unfamiliar anger at my sister. What right had she to judge me like this? Why did she have to demand every last squalid detail? Couldn't she even be a little glad that I wasn't being bullied anymore? What sort of sister and best friend was she, if she couldn't be that?

Fuming now, I plopped into the beanbag in the corner of our room, grabbed a piece of paper, and dashed off a scathing reply. My biro didn't make furious ink blots like Juliet's quill, but oh, it would have if it could!

"Right then, Apollo!" I said shortly, getting up and stomping over to my owl's usual perch on top of our bookcase. "You can take this for my so-called  _sister and best friend_ , and you just give her a peck from me, too." And I tied the letter angrily to his leg.

After a moment I saw that Apollo was gazing at me reproachfully with his deep honey-coloured eyes.

"What?" I snapped, carrying him on my arm to the window. "Go on, then. Off you go."

But my stubborn owl ducked his head and raised his left leg to scratch gently at the letter tied to his right, hooting softly.

I gave him a soft shove. "Get going! I can say what I like!" Apollo gave me one last unhappy look then shuffled along my arm, preparing to take off.

I caught him just as he reluctantly spread his wings.

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Fine. You're right. She had a lot to take in all of a sudden." My flipping owl has more sense than either of us; writing back in anger would've been satisfying right now but I knew, I suppose, it would've been pointless.

"All right, I'll sleep on it," I told Apollo, untying the letter from his leg, and crumpling it up. "You can take a different letter in the morning. Go and hunt, now, and don't look so smug."

Apollo rubbed his sleek feathered head against my outstretched knuckles and hooted again in a satisfied way, before soaring out of the window.

I was glad when I woke the next day that I hadn't sent the scathing letter back, and I left a few owl treats on the bottom of the sleeping Apollo's cage in appreciation. In the peace of the early morning, I found my anger had faded. I just felt sad and a little tired, and hoped Juliet wouldn't keep being stupid about the whole thing.

I wrote this:

_Juliet,_

_I didn't mean to hurt you. I was worried you would leave Hogwarts to be with me and we both know why that's not a good idea. And you might have, mightn't you? So I kept it to myself, not that I wanted to._

_Don't ask me to explain every little thing they did, I just want to forget it, honestly. It was just dumb bullying from a few Year Nine kids at lunchtimes. Here is the worst thing that happened, so you'll know why I don't want to think about it: last week they got hold of one of your letters and were teasing me about it so I scratched one girl's face and she reacted in a totally mental way (trying to make me eat a spider)._

_But it's fine now because Tara and the gang are watching out for me so stuff like that won't happen again. And you are my best friend. It goes without saying you always will be. It's nice not to be alone all the time at school, that's all. Aren't you the slightest bit friends with anyone there? I don't mind if you are or want to be._

_Nothing can change what we are, you know. How could it?_

_Jennifer  
_ _x_

_P.S. More importantly, the bullying made me even more sick of being a pathetic Muggle. I want to be magic, Juliet. Are you still researching our problem? Any new finds?_

Apollo gave a soft squawk of approval as I tied the letter to his leg, and bobbed his head. "Go on then, you bossy bird," I said. Then added, mostly joking, "And maybe just give her a teensy peck for being a rubbish sister yesterday," as I tipped him gently out of the window.


	14. A Handful of Photographs

_January 2019_

Jennifer

When the weekend arrived so did a gloriously long letter from Juliet; this time free of ink blots and written in her usual neat handwriting, which was the same as mine down to every last flick and curl.

_Jen,_

_I spent the whole of yesterday feeling guilty about that letter. Seriously...I was horrified and upset by your news so I scribbled that back without thinking and was_ _consumed_ _with guilt as soon as Artemis was out of sight. I'm sorry. Please tear it into tiny pieces!_

 _Of course I'm glad really that you have people looking out for you and particularly that it's all stopped. It just hurts me so much to think of you going through all that awful, terrible stuff without me when we've always shared_ _everything_ _, and I couldn't help feeling weird about you making other friends. I'll try not to be, really. Tara does sound cool, I guess. No, I'm not the slightest bit friendly with anyone here. They obviously all hate me or think I'm weird. The only person I like is Professor Vector. Yesterday she saw me looking upset and asked me into her office for a cup of tea. She gave me biscuits in the shape of hexagons, let me play with Quinky, her pet Knarl (he's a sort of magic hedgehog!), and didn't pry one bit._

 _It is so long until Easter when I can see you...and I'm homesick...Hogwarts is cold and draughty in winter, they don't put any kind of heating spells on it and it's seems so far away from our cosy house. I never appreciated central heating and electric blankets before: now_ they _seem like magic! But it's more that I pinned so much hope on the Solstice and was looking forward to you joining me here...it's made it lonelier than last term._

 _I guess I'm feeling bad too because I've not found anything the slightest bit useful to help us. It's almost like the Hogwarts library censors the kind of stuff we want to find out. Maybe the wizarding world just doesn't_ want _to give powers to non-magic people...they are obviously weird about Muggles finding out about them, it's like being in a stupidly exclusive club, YUCK! But there just has to be a way. The longer I'm here the more I'm seeing that magic is pretty much limitless...it's unbelievable what it can be used for. If there's not a way to turn a Muggle into a witch or wizard I would eat my whole Hogwarts uniform, not just the pointy hat._

_I just don't know where else to look if not the library. I daren't ask any of the teachers – even Professor Vector. They'd know why I was asking, and it'd get back to McGonagall, I'd bet anything what we're trying to do isn't legal, and I guess it could be dangerous. They'd stop us if they knew. I'll try to think of someone we can ask safely._

_I'm not giving up, of course. Never!_

_Miss you,_

_Juliet  
x_

My sister's letter gave me a great deal to think about. I was enormously relieved she wasn't still furious with me and that thanks to my clever Apollo I had held back my first angry reply. But to hear how homesick Juliet was this term...the little ache that was always in my chest when we were apart throbbed harder to think of this. Easter  _was_  ages away. And Hogwarts didn't do half-term holidays like normal Muggle schools.

After musing sadly on this for a while, I had a sudden inspiration. Oh...what an idea. If only Mum and Dad would agree! I ran downstairs, suddenly hopeful. They were in the living room, Dad reading his Saturday paper and Mum sketching out a few ideas for her latest children's picture book commission. They both looked up in surprise as I came in.

"Ah, it's Jennifer the Stranger emerging from her cave. How nice of you to join us." Dad had been making numerous pointed comments lately about all the time I spent in my bedroom, 'here comes the onset of anti-social adolescence', et cetera. I bit back a snarky reply.

"Yeah, okay...hi. So, um, I was just thinking –"

"Be careful."

"Shut up, Dad."

He grinned and folded up his paper. "Sorry. Force of habit. Do continue."

"Well, you know how I get half-term holidays and Juliet doesn't?"

There was a short pause.

"If you are going to ask if you can go on a lone escapade up to Hogwarts to visit Juliet in February half-term, the answer is obviously no," said Mum, severely. "There was quite enough of that over Christmas. I am not going to mention the word Stonehenge."

"No, Mum! Of course I wasn't thinking that. I wondered about, maybe – all of us going?"

Mum and Dad both looked surprised and I continued hurriedly: "I just thought we could have a holiday in Scotland, you know, stay in a bed and breakfast or something, and then we could see Juliet in the evenings and on the weekend if the school lets her do that? You always say Scotland is really nice."

"Well – it  _is_ ," said Dad. "Scotland is exceptionally beautiful. But not in February. It'll be unbearably cold and turn dark depressingly early and I can pretty much guarantee it'll rain, or snow, possibly all week. The best bet for Scottish holidays is May – for fair weather, before the midges start swarming."

Mum gave me a sympathetic smile. "It's a lovely idea, Jennifer, but..."

"But Juliet's really homesick!" I said, desperately, seeing that they liked the idea but were already shelving it until early summer. "She just told me in her last letter. She says Hogwarts is cold and lonely and Easter holidays are so long away. And that she misses us so much."

"Oh..." said Mum, her forehead creasing. "My poor baby. She didn't say all that when she wrote to us last."

"She probably didn't want you to worry," I said. "But she told me...and I just thought, you know, we could surprise her with a visit."

Dad was also looking ruffled and I knew he didn't like the idea of Juliet being so unhappy, either. Sensing they were caving just a little, I added, " _And_  if we all went away together we'd have proper family time. I promise I'd not stay in my bedroom all the time, honest. It doesn't matter if it rains – we can, you know, play board games and stuff. And there's always museums and National Trust places to visit." I was playing on my parents' weak spot. I had no interest in National Trust houses, but there was nothing Mum and Dad liked to visit more on rainy Sundays than traipse around gloomy old properties, dragging me with them.

"It's Scottish Heritage there, not National Trust," Dad corrected me absentmindedly, and he and Mum shared another thoughtful glance.

"We'll think about it, Jennifer," said Mum at last. "I do hate to think of Juliet being homesick up there. And it  _would_  be nice to have some family time. I miss it being the four of us."

I beamed at Mum, my heart skipping. "Oh, thanks, Mum, thanks  _so_  much!"

"Hang on a minute," said Dad. "We've not decided yet!"

"Yeah, but..." I could tell the tide had turned.

Dad started reading his paper again, but didn't contradict me, which I took as a good sign.

"Mum," I ventured. There was something else on my mind.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"You know your great-aunt?"

"Well, not really, darling. I know  _of_  her. She's probably long dead. She'd be nearly a hundred if not."

"Oh. Well...but you definitely don't know her name? I just – wondered, you know, if now that we have a link to the magical world we could find out more about who she was and what she did. It'd be really interesting."

Mum tapped the tip of her sketching pencil against her chin, thoughtfully, then got up and went to the sideboard. She pulled out an old photo album.

"To be honest, love, no. My grandfather never mentioned her name. But her surname would have been my maiden name, Dibbs. Unless she married; but Dibbs originally. But I do have some photographs."

She handed me the album, pointing at a few group photos, old and discoloured.

"This is her, here...and here...and at the back, here. She was at my great-aunt Kathleen's wedding – before I was born, of course. They were sisters. I don't know if she was invited, or just turned up...I know Kathleen never spoke of her, so I suspect she was an unwelcome guest. She did make it into the family photographs, though...I inherited this album when Grandfather died and recognised her straightaway, from the time I saw her at his funeral. She was younger here, of course...probably fifty years younger...but her hair was the same, though white, and something about her expression here made me know it was her. She looked so sad."

I peered at the faded black-and-white pictures. She was a thin wisp of a woman with a cloud of pale hair and a very wistful face. I carefully tugged one of the pictures out of the album.

"Can I keep this, Mum? It'd be cool if we can find out about her."

"I'd love that, Jennifer," said Mum. "Of course you can keep it."

I slipped the photo into my trouser pocket, pleased. I had a tentative plan.

Back in my bedroom I checked to see if Artemis was still there. Usually each other's owls stayed for a while to have a drink, a rest and a gossip, before flying back. Our daily routine of my evening and Juliet's morning letters meant our owls were extremely active and didn't get a great deal of rest, but they were glossy and sleek and clearly thrived on the exercise, loving their jobs; post owls were clearly bred to be useful.

Now, both Artemis and Apollo were perched on my bookcase, rubbing heads affectionately.

"Don't fly back just yet, please, Artemis," I said. Juliet's owl gave me a questioning look. "I need you to take back a letter to Juliet, I've got another job for Apollo..."

They both pressed forward curiously. "Hoo-oo?" said Apollo.

"Hang on, I haven't written anything yet..."

I grabbed my pen and scribbled a note to Juliet.

_Thank you for the lovely letter, Juliet. I'm so happy you aren't mad with me anymore. Forget it, yeah?_

_I am not going to say much here because I am working on an idea! Before you worry...I'm not hiding anything, I just want to check something before I explain. If it works, it'll be a good surprise! You'll know soon either way, I promise._

_I'm using Apollo for my idea, so we'll have to send letters back and forth with Artemis for now._

_Hang on in there at Hogwarts! Just remember you are exempt from maths and science lessons forever and that should cheer you up, right? Quinky the Knarl sounds awesome, by the way. How are Knarls different to hedgehogs?_

_Love,_

_Jennifer  
x_

Artemis took the letter and soared gracefully out of my window. I sometimes wondered if the neighbours noticed the constant passage of owls...

My next letter was a complete gamble, but worth a shot, I figured. I chewed my pen for a while. How could I write to a complete stranger who had been so badly wronged by earlier generations of my family? Eventually I settled on a polite and slightly formal tone.

_Dear Miss Dibbs (apologies if you have changed surname),_

_I hope this letter finds you well. You don't know me but I am your great-great-niece, Jennifer Belstone. My mum is Fiona Belstone, neé Dibbs, granddaughter of your brother Thomas._

_Last summer my twin sister Juliet was accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which was as you can imagine a surprise to us all. Mum and Dad are very pleased, now that they've got their heads around it. Obviously it was disappointing for everyone that I didn't get a place as the magical gene somehow passed me by. I find Juliet's stories about Hogwarts fascinating, though._

_Anyway, in all the upheaval Mum remembered you. And from the little she had seen and heard of you as a girl, she figured it out; you also went to Hogwarts, didn't you?_

_We'd all love to meet you some time, if you would like to meet us. And I'm sorry if this comes a little late. My immediate family never knew how to contact you before. I thought perhaps my owl, Apollo, might find you._

_Please do reply, if he does!_

_Cordially,_

_Jennifer Belstone_

I hoped that was all right. Of course, as Mum said, there was the very real possibility that Miss Dibbs was long dead. But she was the only witch I could think of with my limited knowledge of the magical world, who wasn't a Hogwarts teacher; Juliet clearly hadn't considered her as a source of information and advice. If she was still alive, I wanted to talk to her.

I pulled the photograph out of my pocket and showed it to Apollo, who peered at it curiously.

"I want you to find someone for me if you can, Apollo," I whispered. "This lady here. This is a very old photograph so if she's still alive she'll be an elderly woman now. Her surname was Dibbs...I don't know if it still is. I'm sorry I don't know anything else, but you can ask around if you meet other magical owls on your journey, can't you? And I figure clever post owls like you might have ways of tracking people down. Here, take the photo too so if you find her, she knows I'm genuine." I popped the letter and photo into an envelope.

Apollo ruffled his feathers, hopped up and down a few times, let out a loud "hoo-OOO-oo!", then stuck out his leg eagerly. I giggled. Clearly he was happy to have a new challenge.

I watched as he dwindled to a speck in the cold grey January sky, a flutter of excitement in my stomach. Maybe it would come to nothing, but after kicking my heels uselessly for months while Juliet did all the research, it was good to be pursuing an idea.

* * *

"We'll go to Scotland in February," Dad told me at dinner that evening. "Your mother and I have discussed it and decided it's  _would_ be a good thing to do, especially as Juliet's not settled this term. We'll spend the week nearby and have some family time, if the Headmistress agrees, of course."

"Oh – mmphf – brilliant!" I choked, through a mouthful of baked beans.

"Jennifer!"

"Oops – sorry, Mum." I swallowed. "But  _thanks_ , Dad! Can we not tell Juliet, and make it a surprise? Please?"

"Why not!" said Mum. "I hate to think of my poor girl homesick up there. I would never have chosen boarding school for either of you in a million years. It is such a shame Hogwarts isn't in Devon."

"It'll be rotten weather, I'm sure, but we'll pick a cosy cottage and batten down the hatches for the duration if necessary. And we'll be able to see this Hogwarts when we pick Juliet up!" said Dad, trying and failing not to look too eager. After seeing Diagon Alley and the wonders of Platform Nine and Three Quarters, he was like a big kid whenever he had the chance to see more of the magical world.

"I'll write to Professor McGonagall," said Mum. "I wondered if Juliet could even stay with us all week – and we could drop her off and pick her up each day. I'll ask which is the nearest village to the school. Could I borrow Apollo, Jennifer, darling?"

"Oh, um, not right now, he's not here," I said awkwardly. (Darn – I hadn't thought of that when I sent him off on his mission to find my great-great-aunt!)

Mum naturally assumed the letter was to Juliet. "Well, when he's back from Hogwarts?"

"I – yes, of course, Mum," I stammered, thinking quickly. I hadn't wanted to tell Mum what I'd done earlier. If the old lady was alive, I'd wanted to surprise Mum with the news; I liked surprises. Besides, if she wasn't, I'd give Mum false hope. I figured the next time I wrote to Juliet, I would just ask Artemis to take two letters to Hogwarts.

Artemis was only a small owl, so the next day I wrote my reply to Juliet (who was bursting with curiosity after my last letter) on thin airmail paper from Dad's bureau so it wouldn't be too much for her to carry, and tied it to her leg. She took Mum's letter in her beak when I offered it to her, saying as I stroked her sleek feathered head, "Take this one to Professor McGonagall first, Artemis, then go to Juliet, please."

Artemis gave a muffled hoot to show she understood, then took off through the window.

The reply from Hogwarts came swiftly, brought by a very beautiful owl with silvery feathers and luminous eyes. To our surprise, it was not Professor McGonagall who answered.

_Dear Mr and Mrs Belstone,_

_Professor McGonagall passed your letter on to me, as head of Juliet's House. To introduce myself, my name is Professor Septima Vector, and I am a teacher of Arithmancy._

_It is an agreeable idea to stay nearby and have Juliet spend the week with you and her twin sister. Usually we do not recommend that students visit their families during term time except in certain circumstances (family illness, for example) as this has the potential to cause homesickness amongst the others. However, given your situation, the Headmistress and I would be happy to make an exception. The division of siblings in this way is always upsetting, and doubly so in the case of twins._

_In fact, I had been considering writing to you as Juliet seems still not to have settled in this term; I found her rather down in the dumps just the other day, and she took some cheering up. I'm sorry to see that she still isolates herself from her peers. Perhaps spending a week with you all close by will help Hogwarts seem less far away from home._

_However, I'm afraid I cannot reveal the location of Hogwarts. It is Unplottable and enveloped by protective spells, and as Muggles if you were to come anywhere close you would find yourself wandering in the opposite direction._ (Dad looked very disappointed as he read this.)  _Might I suggest that you make arrangements to stay in the large Muggle town of Fort William in the west of Scotland. This is not particularly nearby, but not too long a journey by broom or Thestral. I would be delighted to escort Juliet to and from the school personally, each day._

_As you suggest, I won't tell Juliet of your plans so it shall be a surprise!_

_Kindest regards,_

_Professor Septima Vector_  
Head of Ravenclaw House

What a Thestral was I had no idea...but a holiday in Fort William it was, and in just three weeks' time! I couldn't wait to see Juliet's face when she saw us. I was bouncing with happiness when I skipped upstairs that evening, and wasn't at all prepared for what I saw in my bedroom.

Apollo was back – wow, already! He sat on top the bookcase, looking decidedly pleased with himself. A little letter in a violet envelope was tied neatly to his leg, with  _Miss Jennifer Belstone_  written across the front in an elegant, old-fashioned hand.


	15. The Violet Envelope

_January 2019_

Jennifer

"Apollo, you  _genius!_ " I whispered as I untied the violet envelope with trembling fingers. Apollo puffed up his chest and let out a pleased hoot. "Here, have these, you deserve them!" I kissed the top of his feathery head and tipped a small mountain of owl treats onto the bookcase.

The letter was written on thin paper that smelt faintly of lavender. I read it quickly, heart thumping.

 _Dearest Jennifer_ ,

_It makes my heart truly glad to read from you. Your clever Apollo came home with my own owl, Patty, just last night; what a surprise that was. At my age usually nothing much surprises me anymore._

_My brother Thomas and my sister Kath were such blessed fools. I loved them dearly, but they never could see magic for what it was; so they were scared, and I was an outcast from the moment my letter arrived from Hogwarts. And now we have a new witch in the family! I am so happy to hear that your family did not take the news as mine did..._

_But how about you, my dear? You and Juliet are twins, and not both witches? That is the most unfortunate stroke of luck. Fate is not always kind, is it? But I can sympathise...I, too, was divided from my family by magic. Always remember, Jennifer, that nothing –_ nothing _– is more important than family. Money, possessions, yes, even magic...eventually it all falls by the wayside. Take this from a witch who has had no real family since the age of eleven (I never did marry)._

 _I would dearly love to meet you all. Perhaps I could drop by for a cup of tea one day?_   _I live in Seahouses, but the distance is no matter as I can Apparate (a very speedy magical way of travelling)._

_Yours delightedly,_

_Ada Dibbs (I would be thrilled if you called me Aunt Ada)_

I read the letter twice, still hardly believing it. She was alive, and she wanted to come for tea! Unable to keep the news from myself a moment longer, I ran downstairs waving the letter. Mum and Dad were both half-asleep in front of the telly when I threw open the door.

"Guess what!"

They both jumped, and Dad knocked his mug of lukewarm tea onto the carpet.

"Oh, Jennifer! Don't just burst in like that," he said in exasperation, hunting frantically for the tissues.

"Sorry, sorry..." I said, grabbing them and helping to mop up as Mum hurried to get a rag from the kitchen.

Once it was mostly dry only a faint brown stain remained, which Dad poked morosely. "I'll get it out properly with carpet cleaner another time," he said.

Excitement over, I remembered why I'd come downstairs in the first place, and snatched up the letter which I'd dropped on the floor.

"Mum, look, read this," I said, pushing the letter into her hand, and bouncing up and down with suppressed delight. Mum scanned the letter, puzzled, then let out an exclamation of pleasure.

"Oh, Jennifer, you clever girl!"

"Well, it was Apollo, really...he found her."

Dad came over to read the letter too. "What's all this?"

"Jennifer's owl tracked down my great-aunt," said Mum, giving me a hug. "And she'd like to come round for a cup of tea some time."

"Excellent," said Dad. "Maybe she can magically get that one out of the carpet for me."

"Oh, no," said Mum, nudging him in the ribs. "It's elbow grease for that, we're not asking a long-lost family member to clean the house. Jennifer, darling, this is wonderful news. Do write back and say we'd love to have her. Seahouses...well, she's miles away, but if travelling magically really is so easy for her, why not suggest next Sunday? Invite her for lunch, if she's willing."

"Yes, of course. Brilliant. Where  _is_ Seahouses?" I asked.

"Somewhere up north," said Dad, unhelpfully.

"Northumberland," said Mum. "Very close to Scotland. Grandfather was from Berwick-upon-Tweed, originally, but none of the family's lived there in years. Seahouses is just a little further down the coast."

I went to bed that night feeling decidedly pleased with myself. It felt good not just to sit at home twiddling my thumbs while Juliet did all the legwork. And I was so curious to meet Aunt Ada...she sounded sweet, though more than a little sad and wistful. It made me glad, at least, that I wasn't like Thomas and Kathleen, too fearful and suspicious to have anything more to do with their sister. That would  _never_  happen to me and Juliet. But as for magic not being important...I couldn't swallow that. She was probably just trying to make me feel better, and if I could get her on her own next week I had more than a few questions to ask.

It was hard to sleep that night. I was looking forward to Artemis arriving from Hogwarts even more than usual, now that I had actual news and not just an unconfirmed hope to share with Juliet. And I was still hugging the secret of our surprise trip to Scotland close to myself. With so much to look forward to this term, it was nothing like the beginning of the last.

* * *

My good mood lasted all through Monday. At break-time, when I joined the others, Tara immediately commented.

"Hey, kid, what are you looking so pleased about? You're like the cat who got the cream."

I grinned at them all. "I just had a really good weekend, that's all."

"Oh, yeah?" said Lennie, passing on their usual single shared cigarette to Jasmin with a quick glance across the playground to check the supervising teacher was nowhere nearby.

"Mum and Dad have decided we can visit Juliet at her school in Scotland in February," I explained, shyly. I left out the news of finding a long-lost aunt – how could I explain how I'd done it? "She goes to a sort of special school up there for, um, talented children. I didn't think I'd see her 'til Easter."

Jasmin blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "Aren't you the cutest," she said, amused. "I hate my sister."

"Oh, no!" I said, horrified. "You don't mean that."

"I do. Cara's a selfish pig. Don't look all wide-eyed at me. I found her cosied up in bed with my boyfriend last year. She used to nick my stuff when we were little and she ain't stopped."

"I- I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be," said Jasmin, shrugging. "I don't have nothin' to do with her now."

"Oi, Ben," said Tara suddenly. "Whassup?

Ben was very quiet, and I saw to my surprise her eyes were wet. Eventually she sniffed and drew her arm across her face. "It's just," she mumbled, "Well, I wish you'd make up with Cara, Jaz. It's not worth it. Even if...I mean...sisters are important, that's all. I wish – I wish I still had mine." She spoke the last bit to the floor, so quietly it took us all a moment to realise what she'd said.

"You don't have a sister," said Tara, confused. "I mean – do you?"

Ben shook her head slowly. "I did. I do. I never said. We - we were split up by Social Services when I was six...Daisy was four."

"But –  _why_?"

Ben took a long time to answer, but then the words came out in a rush, as though she'd been wanting to say all this for years. "Because – because we both went into care 'cause Mum broke down when Dad left, you know. Me and Daisy - we were adopted by different people. I lost track of her. I tried to contact Daisy a few times since but I just hit this brick wall...seems I'm not allowed access to her records. I – I don't why... Maybe her new family don't want to be reminded she's not really theirs. Maybe she doesn't want to remember the bad times. I – I just keep hoping she'll contact me, someday."

A shocked silence followed this revelation.

"Shit, Ben," said Tara eventually, and everyone else agreed, "Yeah, shit."

I'd listened to Ben's story in utter horror. My own situation paled in comparison. On impulse I went over and gave her a hug. She looked surprised, then squeezed me back. "Thanks, Jen," she mumbled.

"I don't have a sister," said Lennie. "But I'm goin' to appreciate my brother a whole lot more now, man."

" _My_  parents are going to wish they'd had another kid," said Zac. "When they realise I ain't giving them grandchildren any time."

As Ben was clearly trying hard not to cry, there was a sense of relief at this change of subject.

"You've  _still_  not told them you're gay?" said Jasmin, quickly.

Zac squirmed. "I'm waiting for the right time. Or 'til they work it out."

"They'll get over it quick enough if you just tell 'em."

"Naw, they won't. They got  _religion_. They got it bad. It'll give them a stroke."

"This is all getting too heavy," said Tara, lighting another cigarette and offering it to me. I shook my head. "Oh, go on, it's only a fag."

I refused again, feeling awkward, and Tara rolled her mascara-lined eyes and sucked on it herself. "You're too good, Jen. Makes the rest of us feel bad smoking in front of you."

I swallowed. Tara had done so much for me, and I sensed her disappointment.

"It's not a big deal," said Jasmin, who was watching me, amused. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"She's only eleven," said Ben softly, speaking again for the first time since the revelation about her sister. "There's no need, Tara..."

"I started when I was nine," said Tara. "Makes me uncomfortable, you sitting there not joining in. Here, just try it, go on." And she held out the cigarette. Unwillingly, I took it, warm between my fingers and the tip glowing orange.

They started talking between themselves again and I wondered if I could just pass the horrid thing to Ben - who was looking at me anxiously – without anyone noticing. But I realised Tara was watching out of the corner of her eye, and I didn't want her to stop liking me. Bold, brash, tough; she'd still stuck up for me. She'd said I had 'spunk' for fighting Robbie Townsend. What if her good opinion of me drained away? Would I find myself back against the school wall with a spider to my mouth?

I took a short drag on the cigarette, and breathed out hurriedly. Ben took it with a frown and a tiny shake of the head. I knew what she was thinking. I shouldn't force myself to do anything just to stay in the gang. But...I was so much happier now than last term, and I liked these guys. If just one puff a day would give me street cred in Tara's eyes, well, I could live with that.

It seemed to have worked, anyway. When the bell rang and we headed back to the school building, Tara saw me off with a thump on the shoulder. "You're a good kid, Jen," she grinned. "You remind me of me...way back. See ya later."

Ben slipped me a tic-tac before she left, and I sucked on it gratefully before going inside, the mint nearly ridding my mouth of the disgusting taste of smoke.

As I passed through the lobby a new poster on the main notice board caught my eye, nestled between adverts for music lessons, woodworking sessions, netball and badminton clubs. I lingered a moment to read it.

**SELF-DEFENCE CLASSES: MIXED MARTIAL ARTS**

_Beginners to Intermediate_

HAVE FUN, BUILD CONFIDENCE, GREAT EXERCISE!

Wednesdays 3.30-4.30, in the Sports Hall

£5 per session

I studied the poster, intrigued. I'd never considered self-defence, but with the memory of my humiliating encounter with Sabrina and Arash still fresh in my mind, it had a certain appeal. As I was making a mental note of the details, to ask Mum and Dad later, there was a sudden tug on my bag. It slipped off my shoulder and I looked round, confused. The lobby was full of students rushing to classes...had one of them bumped into me?

Then I saw the corner of golden foil sticking up out of my bag's side pocket and, momentarily bewildered, tugged out a large bar of Galaxy milk chocolate that definitely hadn't been there before. It wasn't till I looked more closely, as the lobby emptied, that I saw the note scribbled on it in black felt tip.

_Sorry about the beetle! Friends? Rob_

Oh, for goodness' sake. Robbie Townsend again. I thought I'd made myself clear. He could apologise all he liked, we were  _not_  going to be buddies.

"Shouldn't you be getting to class, young lady? No sweets in the corridors, either, please."

I jumped at the sound of the English teacher's voice. "Sorry, Mr Wilson," I said quickly, and hurried away, making sure I dropped the bar of chocolate into the bin on the way. By jogging I made it to my chemistry lesson just as the last person filed in.

I was glad I wasn't late, as Chemistry was easily my favourite class; I took very little interest in my other lessons, which seemed dull as ditchwater when I heard what Juliet was doing at Hogwarts. But some of the stuff we did in Chemistry was about as close to magic as I could get. I loved the practical lessons. We'd burned bits of magnesium to create brilliant white flames and made black ink separate into fabulous streaks of colour on strips of paper hanging in liquid. Today's lesson was the best yet. Mr Wright had set up a glass screen, behind which he dropped slices of lithium, sodium and potassium into water with increasingly spectacular effect. We all cheered when the potassium exploded over the surface of the water in a whoosh of gas and flame. I always found the scientific explanations behind the light and smoke in these lessons fascinating, and got top marks quite easily.

My good mood evaporated instantly, though, when after school Robbie Townsend caught up with me before I got on my bus.

"Hey, Belstone! Did you get my present? Forgive and forget, yeah?"

I ground my teeth, turning to face him.

"My name's  _Jennifer_ ," I said, haughtily. "I threw it away. Leave me alone, won't you?"

And I got on the bus, ignoring Robbie's hurt expression. I heard him say behind me, "There's no need to be like that."

To my annoyance, when I climbed up to the top of the bus it was to find Robbie had followed me up the stairs, tucking his bus ticket into his shirt pocket.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, outraged. "This isn't your bus."

"I can get this bus," he shrugged, sitting down adjacent to me. "I can get off at Hartwell. It just means a slightly longer walk than if I get the number forty-two."

I seethed silently, then dug in my bag for my phone so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Hey, cute phone."

I ignored this and opened up the games folder.

"Oh, is that  _Alto's Odyssey_? I love that game! Have you got to the level where –"

"Leave. Me. Alone!"

"Actually, I know an even better game than  _Alto's Odyssey..."_

It was useless. He was like a super-irritating mosquito, buzzing around my head, impossible to ignore.

"Why are you so desperate to be friends all of a sudden?" I said in exasperation, looking up from my phone. "You weren't last term!"

"That was before you hit me. You knocked sense into me. Literally!" He mimed punching himself in the eye and waking up with a shake of the head, wide-eyed.

That almost made me laugh, but I restrained myself.

"So while you thought I was a pathetic weedy little kid you were happy to pick on me, but not since you found out I can punch back."

Robbie flushed. "I didn't pick on you much," he muttered. "It was mostly the others."

"You put a beetle  _down my neck_. And you filled my lunchbox with worms."

"Yeah, okay, I did put a beetle down your neck," he admitted. "But it was Sabrina who did the lunchbox.  _And,_ and, she found the beetle, right. She has a bit of a weird thing about bugs and things, actually..."

"Yeah, I know," I said, with feeling.

"Sandy Meadows did the brown paint on the chair. And she wrote the note we – okay,  _I_  – stuck on your back."

"So you're basically saying the others masterminded everything and you just did what you were told."

"Er...yeah. Sounds about right. But I've seen the error of my ways!" He gave me a wide smile that I didn't return.

"Well, that's good to know," I said sarcastically, as the bus pulled up to my stop and I rose from my seat. "Now at least next time you see a little kid by herself, maybe you won't make her life a misery. Bye."

"Aw, c'mon..."

Deliberately feigning deafness, I got off the bus and walked quickly home in the gathering darkness. At least Robbie's bus stop was further on, so he couldn't get off and find out where I lived. What a cheek!

When I broached the subject of self-defence classes that evening, Mum and Dad readily agreed: glad to see I was taking an interest in school activities, and, no doubt, hoping I would make some friends there. I'd not mentioned Tara and the gang to them yet, as I was fairly sure they wouldn't approve of me hanging around with much older students. Dad did wonder out loud why I couldn't pick something more ladylike, like violin lessons.

"You're so old-fashioned, Dad."

"I think self-defence would be very useful to know, particularly nowadays," said Mum. "Oh, Artemis is back, darling. I heard her screech just now."

"Oh, brilliant!"

I dashed upstairs straightaway; I'd been dying to tell Juliet all about Aunt Ada. Eagerly, I read her letter.

_Hi Jen!_

_Is Apollo back yet? I'm dying to know where you've sent him! Did you find a witch or wizard online who can help us, or something? Be careful if so, I don't trust the Internet after Stonehenge...anyway, tell me what you're planning!_

_Professor Vector told me Knarls aren't much different to hedgehogs, but their quills have magical properties and are useful in potions. Oh, and they attack you if you offer them milk._

_I had another run-in with the Scamander twins yesterday. I bump into them all the time and they always want to know why I have such a problem with them. Huh! I hate them._

_Juliet  
xx_

I'd have to let Artemis rest before taking my letter back to Hogwarts: she could go first thing in the morning. I got my reply ready, telling Juliet all the news about Aunt Ada.

_...and I figured she might be a good person to ask about magic as you can't risk asking teachers. Where it comes from, if it can be created, if Muggles have ever been turned magical before. As she's family even if she twigs why we're asking, I'm sure she wouldn't report us!_

_Everything's okay at school, mostly. We had a very cool Chemistry lesson. I did smoke a bit at break today, which I didn't like, but it helped me fit in with everyone...and it was just the teeniest bit. Oh, and I'm starting self-defence classes soon!_

I was interrupted by a flurry and chorus of happy hoots and chirps as Apollo came soaring through the window to land next to Artemis on the bookcase. Stroking his head fondly, I pulled another violet envelope from his leg. After reading the reply quickly, I grinned and added a postscript to my letter.

_Aunt Ada has just replied. She's coming for Sunday lunch!_


	16. Aunt Ada's Visit

_January, 2019_

Jennifer

After school on Wednesday I went to the Sports Hall for the first Self-Defence class, feeling nervous but determined. I'd probably be hopeless; but that feeling of powerlessness when Sandy and Sabrina's gang had me at their mercy was something I'd really hated. If I couldn't protect myself with a wand – not yet, anyway – I could at least use my fists and feet.

Only a dozen students were gathered in the Hall, several looking as nervous as I felt. There was only one person I recognised: a girl called Ellie Hopkins who was in my class, although we'd never spoken. The only two Year Sevens there, we shared a quick, curious glance.

A woman with fair hair tied back in a ponytail was digging out a clipboard and pen from a sports bag in the corner. She was slightly built, not much bigger than me, which surprised me. I had for some reason been picturing a large, burly male trainer; but looking more closely, I saw she had a wiry look, like a cat, and moved with a natural agility and assurance.

"Afternoon, all," said the woman briskly, when it became apparent that the last student had arrived. "My name's Kate, please call me this - I hate 'Miss'. Now if I could just take your names and your level of ability...has anyone done any form of defence or martial arts before?"

She registered us quickly – we were nearly all complete beginners – then stuffed the clipboard away and surveyed us all, hands on hips.

"So. Welcome to Self-Defence. Now, what does this bring to mind? Cool moves? Karate-chopping assailants in the street? Judo-flipping people you see snatching old ladies' handbags?"

There was an embarrassed silence.

"Well, let me just destroy that notion now," said Kate cheerfully. "Real life isn't a Jackie Chan film. This class will cover mixed martial arts, yes, but I'm here to teach you practical moves from various disciplines which are actually useful, although, of course, let's hope you never seriously need them. Knowing how to really defend yourself can be confidence-building and sometimes life-changing. As well as fantastic exercise, of course. Right then. Let's pair up. We're going to start with something simple but useful: how to block punches. Come, come, grab a partner, don't be shy!"

I glanced at Ellie Hopkins, who was already making her way towards me. "Hi," she said. "Mind if we...?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, happy that I didn't have to ask.

While everyone else paired up, Ellie said curiously, "Don't you usually hang around with Year Tens? I've seen you smoking with them at lunch..."

"Oh – um, well –"

"Right, let's get started," cried Kate, and we broke off. "Stand this far away from your partner and face each other!"

The class turned out to be great fun; there was a lot of giggling when punches went astray or were accidentally too effective, and several times someone lost their footing, tumbling onto the squashy mats. Kate bounced around, encouraging us all, giving tips, pulling us back to our feet. Slowly we got less scrappy and more confident, and I was sorry to hear Kate's whistle signifying the end of class.

"Great work, everyone," said Kate, smiling widely at us. "Same time next week!"

Ellie and I left the Sports Hall together, picking up the conversation we'd started earlier.

"I don't really smoke," I told her as we made our way to the school gates. "Just a bit, 'cause the others do."

"Oh. Well, why don't you hang out with people in our year instead of older kids?" asked Ellie. "And you know Robbie Townsend in Year Nine totally fancies you, right?"

I went scarlet, and said stiffly, "He does not! He's a jerk."

"Well, I don't know about that but he definitely does," said Ellie. "Everyone's noticed him following you around, and haven't you seen the toilets?"

"Yeah, I can't shake him off, and – wait – what about the toilets?"

"There's a heart inside one of the doors with your names in the middle. It appeared yesterday, I think."

My hand flew to my mouth; I was speechless with horror. Eventually I choked out, "Wait – Robbie Townsend went into the girls' toilets to put a love heart on the door?"

Ellie laughed at the look on my face. "Well, what's wrong with that? He's hot. And I know he's pretty smart, even if he goofs around. He's friends with my brother..."

"He is not hot! He is – he's – urgh!" I shuddered and stopped walking. "I'm going to scrub that off right now before the school closes up. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess?"

"Yeah, see you," she said, in a friendly, but non-committal voice, and walked on. I looked after her for a moment, savouring the strange situation. That was the longest conversation I'd had with any of the kids in my year. I was so quiet at the beginning, everyone in class had left me alone while they formed into friendship groups. Ellie hung out with a bunch of others already and I sensed that she didn't necessarily want me to intrude...still, it had been fun partnering her in class.

I hurried through the empty corridors to the toilets and found the offending item on one cubicle door immediately, clear and fresh, standing out from the other students' graffiti: a heart scrawled in dark blue pen, enclosing both our names. I scowled. It made me feel unclean. I mean, yuck! Robbie Townsend! Not that I even thought about boys at all, apart from how noisy and gross the ones in my class were, farting and mucking around all the time. Let alone Robbie, who'd made my life a misery. He'd been joining me on the bus every day, deaf to my waspish remarks and increasingly annoyed demands to be left alone.

To my immense irritation, scrubbing the heart with the weak hand soap and toilet tissue didn't even smudge it; he'd used a permanent marker. Soon I gave up, making a mental note to bring in one of my own to scribble it out in the morning.

Predictably, Robbie joined me on the bus on Thursday, where I blanked him with the iciest contempt I could muster. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to put him off so much as encourage his persistent stupid comments. Tara – always, it seemed, keeping half an eye on me – had noticed him following me onto the bus each day, but I had been quick to assure her he wasn't bullying me again. I wasn't a tattle tale, and she'd rescued me twice from nasty situations; I wasn't about to ask her to rescue me from an embarrassingly love-sick idiot too. I'd handle Rob Townsend myself.

I'd told Juliet about him of course, and she'd been as disgusted about Robbie's new stalkerish tendencies as me. She agreed that blanking him was the best tactic. At some point, surely, he'd get bored and give up?

As it happened, my problems were over by Friday afternoon, when Robbie – surprise, surprise – jumped on my bus again.

"All right, Jen? Good week? What're you up to this weekend? I'm off to the moor with some mates. D'you like geocaching? We're going geocaching."

Still rankling from the embarrassment of the toilet-door heart, and driven crazy by his verbal diarrhoea, this time I snapped out of my silence.

"What the fuck is geocaching?"

Robbie grinned, clearly pleased to have provoked me into speaking. "It's great. People hide stuff, right, in little boxes outdoors, and you track them down with GPSs – then you add your name in the box, and –"

For goodness' sake. I thought Robbie would be into non-weirdo stuff like football. I interrupted. "I don't actually care what it is, Robbie!"

"Nah, you'd like it, Jen. Hey, you can come out with us if you like – I'll show you what to do –"

That was the final straw.

"I am NOT going geo...thingy with you, Robbie!" I snapped, my voice louder and more aggressive with every syllable. "Get this into your stupid, fat head: I am not doing anything with you, EVER, so fucking leave me alone! I don't want to go out with you, I don't even want to look at you, and I don't fucking want to share a bus with you every day!"

There was a ringing silence, during which I became very aware of the three other passengers on the top deck who were carefully looking anywhere but at us. One of them coughed.

Robbie had stopped smiling. He gave me a long look, and then slowly got up.

"I see," he said coolly. "Well, goodbye, Belstone. See you around."

And he got off the bus at the next stop. I watched him trudge away – God knew how far he had to walk from there – feeling grimly satisfied.

Mum and I spent Saturday getting everything ready for Aunt Ada's visit. I could tell Mum felt guilty about how her family had previously treated her great-aunt, so she was determined to give her a warm welcome. Dad seemed somewhat alarmed at all the elaborate preparations, but obediently scrubbed his tea-stain out of the carpet and went round with the vacuum, while Mum and I went food shopping, put fresh flowers in all the vases, and baked a huge apple and blackberry crumble. "All my family love apple crumble with custard," Mum had told me. "It's a Dibbs weakness...if she's anything like the rest of us..."

When Sunday finally came, Mum put a juicy leg of lamb dotted with rosemary into the oven mid-morning to roast slowly. I sniffed the air regularly in anticipation; this was very different from our usual Sunday steamed chicken... By midday the rich, herb-infused meaty smell had penetrated every corner of the house, Mum was shaking fat chunks of potato, parsnip and carrot in a roasting tin to coat them with oil, and Dad was shooting longing looks at the oven whenever he went past the kitchen.

"So is she going to Apparate directly into the house?" he asked me. Juliet had explained Apparating to me, and I'd passed it onto Dad, who found the idea fascinating.

"Er – I have no idea," I said. "She didn't say..."

"Hmm. I suppose she could pop out of nowhere, any second now."

After Dad put this idea into our heads we were all slightly jumpy, but shortly before she was due to arrive, Mum called desperately for me to give her a hand with lunch, which left less time for such ponderings.

"Thanks, Jennifer," Mum said, distractedly whisking the gravy whilst thrusting a broccoli at me with the other hand. "Wash that for me, please!"

Brr-rrring!

I dropped the broccoli into the sink with a wet thud when the doorbell rang. "She's here!" I yelled, and ran out of the kitchen, wiping my wet hands on my jeans. My heart beat fast in my chest as I opened the front door.

The witch on the doorstep – who was dressed in lilac robes under a soft grey coat, and clutching both a small purple handbag and an owl in a cage – was instantly recognisable from her cloud of fine white hair. It was just like in the wedding photographs many years before. Her eyes had a wide, wistful look, and she smiled hesitantly upon seeing me. Suddenly, I felt shy too.

"Hello," I said bashfully, standing aside to let her in. It was weird to think we'd already corresponded twice but never met. "Er - come in."

"Hello, my dear," said the witch in a voice that was more like a sigh as she entered the hallway. "You must be Jennifer. Um, I'm Aunt Ada!" I nodded, unable to take my eyes off this old witch – my great-great-aunt! Considering her age, she was much younger-looking than I had expected.

"Oh, hello!" said Mum breathlessly, appearing at my shoulder, and I heard Dad's footsteps behind us in the hall.

Aunt Ada shifted the owl cage and bag to her left arm so she could shake hands with them both, which she did very tentatively.

"Fiona...and Peter, is it? I hope you don't mind me bringing Patty," she said, nodding at the owl cage, "but you see she's not used to me going out all day and I, um, didn't want her to get lonely. I don't think she enjoyed the journey, though...I, um, Apparated into the little wood behind your road...Patty's never Apparated a long way before. It's, um, well, rather a peculiar sensation when you're not used to it."

The owl – an old snowy with rather messy feathers – gave a disgruntled squawk which made us all laugh. I was already getting over my initial shyness, and took Aunt Ada's coat from her. It was very soft, with the faint scent of lavender perfume.

"D'you want me to put Patty in my bedroom with Apollo?" I asked. "They've already met."

"Thank you, my dear – that would be most kind...my goodness, what is that wonderful smell?"

"Oh, no!" said Mum, dashing back to the kitchen as I took Patty's cage. "The gravy's still on the hob!"

When, a couple of minutes later, I joined them around the kitchen table – Mum was whisking the gravy again as Dad put the kettle on – I saw to my horror that Aunt Ada had tears in her eyes as she surveyed the room.

"Aunt Ada! What's wrong?"

Mum and Dad glanced over in surprise at my exclamation, and looked horror-struck to see Aunt Ada wiping her eyes on a handkerchief embroidered with little purple flowers. "Oh, I'm so sorry, everyone...it's just – I didn't, um, expect you to go to all this effort...just for me. And it's, well, so lovely – to meet you all..."

"Oh, don't be silly, it's no effort!" said Mum. "We're delighted to meet you, too, after all these years."

However, this only caused Aunt Ada to well up again, so Mum quickly changed the subject. "Actually, we've met before – at my grandfather's funeral – briefly, you know?"

Aunt Ada looked startled. "Did we really?"

"Just before you left," said Mum. "I think you were in a hurry to go. I saw you Apparate away."

"I – I'm so sorry, my dear, I don't remember. I was terribly nervous that day. I wanted to be there, to pay my respects to Thomas, but Kath had made it clear she didn't want me to come, and, um, whenever we met she used to say...such terrible things...so I hurried off."

"Oh, it's no matter," said Mum hastily, tipping crispy golden potatoes into a hot serving dish. "None at all...oh, Peter, carve the lamb, would you?"

"Is it a generational thing?" asked Dad, as he hunted for the carving knife. "I mean, obviously witchcraft in Britain was feared terribly in medieval times...but now there are magic kids from normal families going to Hogwarts all the time. Perhaps one day it'll all be out in the open and no one will care less."

But Aunt Ada shook her head. "Oh no, there's still a great deal of, um, prejudice out there," she said softly. "We have to hide or we'd find ourselves facing medieval witch-hunts again very shortly. Muggles tend to hate what they can't understand, and when we are accidentally exposed, terror always reigns for the few hours it takes for the Ministry's memory-modifiers to sort out the problem."

"Memory-modifiers?" asked Dad, fumbling with the knife and nearly slicing through his finger. "You're not serious?"

"Oh, perfectly. What other choice is there?"

Dad, finishing carving, struggled to take this in. "So – so you're saying I could have witnessed a major magical catastrophe myself, and had my memory wiped so I'd have no recollection at all?"

"It's possible, yes. Things happen all the time. Why, just last week a dragon torched a row of beach huts at Skegness...a Hebridean Black, goodness knows what it was doing flying that far south...luckily no one was in them due to the time of year."

Aunt Ada laughed to see the shocked look on Dad's face. I could see her warming to us all; she was already less hesitant. "But there were plenty of Muggles strolling along the seafront. It caused pandemonium...took the entire department a whole day to sort out the mess."

Dad blinked, very fast, and swallowed. "Right then," was all he managed.

"Oh, Fiona..."

Mum had brought over the beautifully-carved lamb, swimming in its own fragrant juices and steaming gently. My mouth watered just looking at it. I helped bring over the vegetables and saw with amazement that Mum had even buttered the peas, which was unheard of in our house.

To my delight, Aunt Ada chattered away through lunch, answering Dad's many questions about the wizarding world. Her remaining shyness was noticeably dropping away as she told us about her time at Hogwarts, her favourite classes, her career after she left: apparently she had worked at the Ministry, in the Department of International Magical Co-operation ("just a desk job, nothing exciting, dears"). Soon it felt as though we'd always known each other and I couldn't help giving her a little secret smile which she returned.

When the last scraps of meat and gravy were cleared from our plates Mum served scoops of the apple and blackberry crumble we'd made yesterday, its dark, juicy filling spilling out under the buttery golden topping. "Oh, my!" was all Aunt Ada could say when she saw it and the jug brimful of thick custard. "Oh, my!"

"This is amazing, Mum," I agreed, digging in enthusiastically. "Best lunch ever."

Dad, at my side, munched through his crumble portion in silent bliss.

"Well," Aunt Ada sighed at the end of the meal. "I honestly can't remember the last time I ate like that. Thank you..."

Mum went a little pink with pleasure. "Oh, it was no trouble."

"Oh," said Aunt Ada suddenly. "How could I forget. I brought you something!" She reached for her handbag.

"Oh, you didn't need to –" started Mum, but Aunt Ada waved her protest away.

"It's nothing, dear. I just thought you might all like a little something...magical...around the house."

All three of us stared at her, not daring to believe what she had just said.

"Don't get too excited," Aunt Ada said hurriedly, still digging around in her bag – considering it was a very small bag she seemed to be having trouble finding anything in it. "I just thought you'd find them useful. Oh, here we are."

To our great surprise she pulled out a squashed-looking pot plant which was far larger than the bag itself. I glanced at Dad, grinning: yes, he looked as delighted as a small boy who had just seen a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat.

"This is for you, Fiona, dear," said Aunt Ada, handing her the plant, which was a rather ugly-looking thing with no flowers and thick, waxy leaves. "It's called Dittany...it's a powerful magical restorative. If you have a bad cut, or burn, crush one of the leaves and apply the juice. It works on Muggles just as well as witches and wizards..."

Mum took the plant, stammering her thanks, but Aunt Ada was already rummaging in her bag again. "Oh, and I thought you might like this, Peter...it was given to me years ago, and was rather useful then, but nowadays my days are so predictable I think it would be better in another's hands..."

Dad took the pocket-watch Aunt Ada handed him with boyish excitement, hands trembling. It looked perfectly ordinary, but when Dad opened it, in addition to showing the hours and minutes it squeaked, "Time to water the pungous onions!" Dad beamed, then blinked and said, "Pardon?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," smiled Aunt Ada. "It's still used to me and my ways. But it'll adapt to your home and habits. It reminds you to do useful jobs and also tells you when it's a good time to sit down and have a cup of tea and a biscuit..."

"Excellent..." Dad breathed, opening and shutting it again. Cheerfully, it squeaked, "Time to wash the dishes!"

Everyone laughed as Dad looked in dismay at the mound of gravy- and custard-covered plates, pots and pans. "Hmm...it'll have to learn what a dishwasher is!" he said, but good-humouredly started to load the dishwasher anyway.

"Is that a Muggle washing device for dirty dishes? Oh, don't worry about that..." said Aunt Ada, pulling out a wand and waving it. "Scourgify!"

The pots, pans and piles of plates were suddenly all sparkling clean. Dad emitted a squeak just like his new pocket watch and said, "Oh, I really wish I could do that."

Aunt Ada was rummaging in her bag again. I tingled with anticipation. What treat did she have in store for me?

"Here we are, dear. I racked my brains for a while thinking what you would like most. And knowing how close you are to your sister...and how painful it is to be apart...I thought you would both find these useful." She held out two ordinary-looking small cotton bags with string ties.

"Oh – um, thanks," I said, a little confused.

"Bewitched, so they and anything inside is as light as air, and they hold far more than they would appear to," said Aunt Ada. "Lots of kids at Hogwarts will have them, they've always been popular. Hogwarts is so far away, you know, and the terms are very long, the students miss home and their own things...parents used to send cakes sometimes, and books and so on. I just thought it would be a nice way to supplement your letters..."

"Oh, Aunt Ada, thank you!" I said, delighted. "Juliet can send me some pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, they're too heavy for Artemis so I've never tried them...and I can send her the book I'm reading when I'm finished...and her fluffy dressing gown because the Ravenclaw tower is so cold!"

"I'm so glad you like them," said Aunt Ada, her eyes twinkling.

My unexpected present gave me an idea for getting Aunt Ada on her own – something I'd been wondering how to do since she arrived.

"Do you want to come and test the bags with me, Aunt Ada?" I said, with a quick glance at Mum and Dad. "Apollo's in my bedroom. We could send something to Juliet together."

"Go and have fun, you two," said Dad. "We'll put away the – er, very clean – plates and things."

Aware of Aunt Ada's great age, I started climbing the stairs slowly, expecting her to creak her way up them like my grandma used to. However, to my great surprise, she pattered nimbly up to the landing, and looked down in surprise to see me lagging behind.

"Wow," I said, catching up. "You're nothing like my grandma was and you must be older than she was when she died."

I clapped my hand to my mouth in horror as soon as I'd said this. "I'm so sorry –" I blurted out, appalled at my tactlessness. What on earth had made me say that? I wanted to sink into the floor; but to my relief, I saw Aunt Ada was laughing.

"That's all right, sweetheart. I know you didn't mean that. And yes, I would seem different to your grandmother even at my age, witches and wizards live much longer than Muggles. I reckon I've got a good few years left in me," she finished cheerfully, unaware that I had stopped in my tracks, utterly appalled.

"Which is your bedroom, Jennifer?" said Aunt Ada, looking round after a couple of seconds; when she saw me, her mouth fell open and I knew she'd realised her mistake. "Oh, no...oh, darling...of all the stupid, stupid things for me to say!"

When I spoke, my voice sounded distant and strange to my ears. "You mean," I whispered, feeling as though my insides had just been brutally gutted, "Juliet is going to live years and years longer than me? By herself?"

Unable to bear the thought, my face crumpled and Aunt Ada hurried over, enfolding me in her arms. I felt her patting my back while I breathed in her faint lavender scent, trying to get a grip on myself. Eventually I emerged, jaw clenched. This knowledge had just made what I had been intending to ask my great-great-aunt even more pertinent. I breathed deeply and led Aunt Ada to my room, where we each sat on a bed. She was still looking at me, terribly concerned. "I'm –I'm so sorry, Jennifer," she said. "I didn't mean to spring that on you like that..."

"Aunt Ada," I said tremulously. I'd spent hours thinking of subtle ways to put this question to her, but now, after this revelation, I was too upset for going all round the houses.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Where – where does magic come from?"

Aunt Ada looked surprised. "Why do you ask such a thing?"

"It's just...why is Juliet a witch and not me?" I said desperately. "McGonagall said there's no scientific explanation...that DNA has nothing to do with it...but you see, everything I know can be explained by science. I'm learning at school that everything that seems strange and mysterious is just chemistry, or physics, or biology. So I just keep thinking, why are some people magic? Where did it all come from? Are we different species, or what? Are our atoms non-identical? Am I – am I really even Juliet's twin?"

The questions tumbled out in a rush, just a few of the things I'd been agonising over in the last few months...as I said them I felt a mix of relief at letting them out, and terrible anxiety about what I might hear. Aunt Ada was looking at me, sympathy in every line of her kind and wistful face.

"Oh, my dear," she said. "You are...just like I was when I was sent to Hogwarts...so full of questions..."


	17. Prince Bardiya and the Djinn

_January, 2019._

Jennifer

"So...why?" I asked again. "Why Juliet and not me?"

Aunt Ada looked at me with her wistful eyes. "And why me, and not Thomas, or Kathleen?" she said quietly. "Jennifer, I wondered too. I looked in books, and I asked my Head of House at Hogwarts, Professor Flitwick he was called. All he could tell me was – ah, now, you see I left Muggle school at eleven, so I didn't really understand. It was to do with – with biologism."

"Biology?"

"Ah - is that it? And then it was, well, I think it was the same word as those trousers you're wearing."

I looked down in confusion. "Jeans?"

"Yes – yes. Um – domineering jeans, I think."

After a long moment in which I stared at Aunt Ada thinking that she had gone completely mad, something clicked in my brain. We'd done this at school recently. "Oh. Dominant genes?"

"You clever girl. Yes...it means that when wizards and witches marry Muggles, they  _usually_  have magical children...but sometimes, when already weakened by Muggle blood in earlier generations, the result is a Squib. You might be a Squib, my dear, rather than a pure Muggle. Squibs can't do magic, but they can still pass it on to later generations. There is a thin thread of magic running through the whole Dibbs line...but so diluted with Muggle blood that it has only surfaced in me and Juliet, in over four generations."

"But –" and I frowned "– that still doesn't explain me and Juliet. We started out as the same cell. I guess maybe after we split, Juliet's magical gene developed and mine just...didn't bother." I tried to keep the note of bitterness out of my voice, but could see from the pitying look on Aunt Ada's face that I hadn't succeeded.

I pulled myself together and continued. "But then, where did magic come from  _originally_ and why don't we all have it? Did witches and wizards just evolve one way while humans went another? We've been learning about evolution at school...but, if it's survival of the fittest, right, with all the extra powers wizards and witches have, wouldn't Muggles have died out a million years ago?"

Aunt Ada was shaking her head, bewildered. "Oh, Jennifer, I don't understand any of this. Magic is  _different_. It has its own rules and I just don't think it conforms to the things you learn about at school."

I kicked my feet moodily. "Yeah, McGonagall said the same thing...that it was the opposite of science. I just – I hate not knowing."

"Well," said Aunt Ada gently, "I'm sorry that I'm no good with this, um, science stuff. But if it helps, I  _can_  answer your question about where magic comes from originally."

I looked up at her quickly. I'd imagined all sorts of answers to this question. If the source of the raw stuff, whatever it was, still existed, well...maybe we could find it.

My great-great-aunt was looking at me curiously. "But if you've been wondering, I'm surprised you didn't just ask Juliet. She could have found out for you in an instant."

I gaped at her. "What? I  _did_  ask Juliet. She's read her way through half the Hogwarts Library and found  _nothing_!"

Aunt Ada frowned. "The Library? Well, it'll be referenced in some History of Magic books, I expect – but the story's so well known, it's just a given...  _any_  witch or wizard in Juliet's year who isn't Muggle-born knows where magic came from. It's the most famous fairy-tale in the wizarding world! But it's rooted in truth, you know."

I felt my stomach sink. "Juliet doesn't really talk to her classmates."

A short pause, then a flicker of understanding in Aunt Ada's eyes. "I see. Well...maybe I'm not the best person to tell this to you, as I wasn't raised on it myself. But I do know the story...I used to help look after my friend Seppy's children sometimes, and read it to them. I've got the book at home, somewhere."

" _Please_  tell me."

"Of course I will, my dear. Let me think, now. Well, it all started in the Middle East, in Iran, although then it was known as Persia...the story began, oh, thousands of years ago, in a desert there. It's a place of terribly ancient magic..."

I was transfixed. "Go on," I urged.

Aunt Ada looked thoughtful. "Well, now, you probably haven't heard of the Djinn, have you?"

Frowning, I shook my head.

"They're also known as Genies..."

"Oh, I know Genies!" I interrupted, immediately thinking of the friendly blue Genie from  _Aladdin._ "You rub a lamp and one pops out, then you get three wishes! No way, are they actually real?"

Aunt Ada looked bewildered. "Why would you rub a lamp?"

"Oh...right...never mind."

"The Djinn are certainly real," said Aunt Ada. "Although relatively little is known about them. Wizards keep well away, for good reason, as you'll see... They live deep in the deserts of the Middle East, and they are an ancient race of very powerful demons. Now, what was that you said about getting three wishes?"

"Er – the genie in the story I know has to give three wishes to whoever finds him."

Aunt Ada looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Some trace of the legend has crept into Muggle fairy-tale, I see. The Djinn do have the power to grant wishes, although they will only do this when they stand to gain from it themselves. They are traders, you see. They do deals. Now, the legend goes that one day, a young Prince..."

" _Jennifer! Are you two okay up there?_ "

Mum's voice floated up the stairs, and Aunt Ada broke off, looking guilty. "Oh, goodness," she said, jumping up off the bed. "We've been up here for ever so long! Your mother and father will think I'm terribly rude. We must go down and join them."

"Oh, but –"

"I'll finish the story another time," said Aunt Ada. "I promise."

Frustrated, I followed her downstairs. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing games of cards in the lounge. It transpired that Aunt Ada had loved Muggle card games as a child, but they were unknown in the wizarding world. She knew lots of games, and although she'd not played in nearly ninety years, hadn't forgotten the rules at all. She beat us several times, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I've had the most  _wonderful_  day," she said at last, as dusk started to fall outside. "I should really be getting home. But thank you so much for having me..."

"You must come often," Mum said. "Any time."

"And if you want to meet Juliet," I put in, quickly, "you can visit us in Scotland in February. We're going up to Fort William for a week to surprise her."

"I'd love that," said Aunt Ada, beaming. "Now, I must be going. I'll just go and get Patty from upstairs before I Apparate back...gosh, she'll be cross..."

After Aunt Ada had gone, I withdrew to my bedroom to write to Juliet, still disappointed that I'd not had time to hear the whole story about the Djinn. I found myself staring at the blank notepaper, wondering what to say. I'll admit, I was a little peeved at Juliet. At Hogwarts since September, and she could've heard the story from practically any of her classmates if she'd just asked! Eventually, I just told her what I'd heard so far and asked her if she could find out the rest. Then I poked her fluffy dressing gown and slippers into Aunt Ada's little magical bag, as well as my letter and Juliet's bag, with a note of explanation. The whole lot was swallowed up easily, and didn't weigh a thing (I had to resist the urge to pull them out and do it again). I sent Apollo off into the night, then went to bed early. But I couldn't sleep. I lay awake, thinking about Aunt Ada's half-finished story, and wondering...

* * *

The next day, Monday, was a pretty good day. My Chemistry homework came back with top marks, and Mr Wright had added a little note:  _Excellent, Jennifer. Please see me after class!_  Intrigued, I tried to catch his eye, but he didn't pay me any attention. After a while I realised he was probably trying not to single me out in front of the others, and got on with diluting my hydrochloric acid and measuring out small amounts of zinc, iron and lead. At the end of the lesson, I hung back and looked at Mr Wright expectantly when the last students left the room.

"Um, you wanted to see me, Sir?"

"I did," he said, as he tidied a few forgotten flasks away and wiped down the tables. "Your homework was outstanding. Well beyond Year Seven level. It's been getting more sophisticated all term. I'm surprised you're not bored in this class, Jennifer."

"Oh, no!" I said immediately. "I love this class. It's my favourite."

Mr Wright looked pleased. "Well, in that case I hope you'll be interested in what I'm about to suggest. You're clearly a keen young scientist...why don't you come along to my Chemistry Club after school on Tuesdays? It's generally older students preparing for exams, so there's no one your age, but that shouldn't matter. You'd get to do much more interesting stuff than dissolving zinc in hydrochloric acid –" he waved his hand dismissively "– and you'd learn a lot, I know."

"Wow, I'd love that," I said immediately, with a thrill of pleasure at having been asked. "Yeah, all right!"

"Excellent. See you there tomorrow, then."

I left feeling quite pleased with myself and went to find Tara and the others, who greeted me enthusiastically. It was an enjoyable lunch break. The cigarette I shared today wasn't too bad: I didn't cough any more, and I was almost getting used to the taste. Jasmin wasn't treating me so much like a cute six-year-old nowadays, either: she even asked what I thought about the boy she was dating, and though clueless, I tried to venture a mature opinion. And I found myself giggling with the others at Tara and Lennie's –  _always_  outrageous – stories about sex, instead of blushing. They all really acted like I was one of them now, and it gave me a warm feeling inside.

After school, Robbie didn't get on my bus. I was relieved and pleased: clearly my outburst had sunk in. But the best part of the day was yet to come. As I turned the corner into my road in the gathering gloom of the winter evening, I glimpsed a movement above me, and looked upwards just in time to see a ghostly white shape soar over the telephone lines and into my open window.

"Patty," I breathed, and quickened my pace. I hurried to my door, fumbling to find my key on the way, and went straight upstairs, yelling "Hi, Mum," in the general direction of the kitchen.

To my surprise, there was a whole cluster of owls on my bookcase! Apollo was back, with Artemis perched next to him, both making affectionate chirping, clicking noises. Patty, looking her usual dishevelled self, was crammed uncomfortably on the far side of the bookcase with a package wrapped in pale purple tissue-paper dangling from her leg.

I relieved her of it quickly and she hooted gratefully before fluttering to Apollo's cage for a drink of water. My fingers tingled as I looked down at the package. What  _could_  it be? I hesitated, then laid it down with a small effort, went over to Artemis, and pulled Juliet's letter out of the bag tied to her leg. I'd read that first.

_Jennifer,_

_You did so amazingly finding Aunt Ada and asking her that stuff, and all in about a week! I've read so many books trying to find out where magic comes from, I can't believe the answer was in a fairy-tale. There aren't any books for little children in the Hogwarts library._

_I'm sorry, Jen. I should have started talking to people months ago...finding out who I could trust. Instead I've just got used to being on my own here, Susie and Marion and the others act like I don't exist. I guess it's my own fault._

_So, stuff the library. I'll find someone to ask about the story, I promise._

_Love,_

_Juliet_

_P.S. Thank you for my dressing gown and slippers, it's so good to be warm! I've sent you something, too. They often have these on the tables at breakfast, though I prefer toast._

I rummaged in the bag again and pulled out a heavy, lumpy package wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a large pasty which I knew must be pumpkin. I smiled and wrapped it up again. I'd have it for lunch tomorrow.

The pale purple package still lay invitingly on my bed, and I picked up it up curiously, feeling it through the thin paper. I had an idea what it might be...and ripped off several layers of tissue until – yes, I was right!

I was holding an old, well-worn picture book. Across the front in curling letters was written:

_PRINCE BARDIYA AND THE DJINN_

My heart thumped as I studied the picture on the cover, of a young man crossing a vast desert on a camel. The picture was actually moving! I watched as the low sun cast golden rays across his face, which to me looked a little foolish. I slid into the beanbag in the corner of my bedroom – my favourite reading spot – opened the picture book, and read the story from beginning to end.

_Many thousands of years ago, in The Great Salt Desert in the kingdom of Persia, there lived a handsome Muggle Prince. His name was Bardiya, and he and his people roamed the desert on camels, trading with other nomad tribes when they met. Sometimes they travelled to the City at the edges of the desert where they would barter spices, incense, and gold._

_Now, Bardiya had been pampered his entire life. He didn't even have to ride a camel, because slaves on foot would carry him in a bed with white cotton sheets and a canopy above to protect his royal skin from the sun. They fanned him with palm leaves, fed him with sugared dates, and brushed away the flies that bothered him. This was the way of life for all princes in The Great Salt Desert and no one thought the worse of him for it._

_But what no one realised was that by the time the Prince was fifteen, he was terribly bored of doing nothing. He spent his days gazing out at the horizon from his canopied bed, and began to wonder if there wasn't more to life than sugared dates and being carried around..._

_One night, Prince Bardiya slipped from his bed and stole away on the strongest camel, leaving his people snoring behind him. Terribly pleased with himself, he travelled many miles across the desert that night. He was confident that soon he would reach the City, where surely many adventures awaited._

_But Bardiya had never had to think for himself before, and consequently he hadn't even thought to pack a saddlebag with a goatskin flask of water, or any food. Nor did he know that the City was in fact many weeks away by camel. The scorching desert sun rose, and soon Bardiya was swooning in his saddle. "Oh," he cried, delirious, "Why did I ever leave my people!_ "

_But as he fell from his camel, two hands reached up from the desert sands and caught him. He had fallen into the clutches of a female Djinn. She pulled the unconscious Prince into her cave deep under the sand where she tended to him._

_This Djinn, an ancient and powerful being like all her kind, was named Alijah-nawaz. She was drawn to Bardiya's helplessness. Djinn tended not to show themselves to people, but they are the greatest traders on earth. It is easier to extract goods and services from those who already owe you a debt..._

_But the pampered Prince, unused to the strain of his recent experience, was in a deep fever and came close to never waking. Alijah-nawaz tended to Bardiya for a week, he tossing and groaning at her feet._

_During this week, something came about that had never happened before in all this world's history. Alijah-nawaz, who was in fact a Djinn Princess, began to feel affection for the handsome, helpless Prince as she trickled healing potions and water down his parched throat and fanned him with cooling spells. By the time he awoke, the Djinn Princess was fiercely in love._

_Djinn may be powerful, but they are also terribly ugly, and when Prince Bardiya awoke he was horrified to see the grotesque demon gazing down at him, love-struck._

_He begged and pleaded to be let go, but Alijah-nawaz would not release him and was adamant that they marry. But the Djinn-Princess, usually as wily as the rest of her kind, was turned foolish by love. She could keep Bardiya here against his will but she was saddened by the thought of a forced and loveless marriage. Determined to make Bardiya love her back, she offered him a deal: anything that was in her power to give him, if he would freely choose to marry her._

_Bardiya thought for many days and nights. Was there anything she could give him that would make the union acceptable? He considered wagons full of gold, barrels of spices, all the currency that he knew...but deep below the earth in the suffocating cave, gold and spices held no allure. At last the Prince knew what he would ask. There was one thing that could get him out of this terrible hole._

_And so, one day, Bardiya approached Alijah-nawaz and told her that he would marry her gladly, if she would give him Magic to make him her equal._

_The Djinn-Princess hesitated, for it was against all the laws of her people. But she was blinded by love and lust; and so at last she agreed._

_Thus it was that Prince Bardiya became the first wizard, and he married Alijah-nawaz. For several years he lived with the demon below the sands of the Great Salt Desert as her husband, and, believing he truly loved her, the Djinn-Princess fashioned him a wand and began to teach him the magical arts._

_But Bardiya betrayed her. When he had become skilled in magic, he turned his power against his Djinn-wife. Not bound magically by a deal – for he had only agreed to marry, not to stay forever – he Stunned Alijah-nawaz in her sleep, undid the enchantments which bound the cave's entrance, and flew to freedom on the Princess' own magic carpet._

_When Alijah-nawaz awoke she screamed for forty days and forty nights in rage to find Bardiya gone, but it was too late._

_As for Bardiya, he made it to the City, where he met a beautiful Muggle girl named Ida, and they had many children, who were all magical. Today, there are witches and wizards all over the world; and every one can trace their ancestry back to Bardiya, nomad Prince of The Great Salt Desert._


	18. In Ravenclaw Tower

_February, 2019_

Juliet

February must be the dreariest month to be at Hogwarts. The perpetual cold seeped into my bones in classes, the wind howled and rain spattered the windows, and outside the Lake was a glassy grey mirror wreathed in dismal mist.

I wasn't too happy with myself, either. I'd let Jennifer down badly, failing to find out anything of use by poring through books in the Library, while she, in her brilliance and daring, had discovered a long-lost great-great-aunt and easily found out the answer to one of the biggest questions of all. And before I even could find out the rest of the story, Jennifer had received the picture book from Aunt Ada.

She'd sent it to me straightaway, in Apollo's magical leg-bag, along with a note to say that the story was interesting, but really no use to us. Finding the Djinn and asking for magic – which I'd immediately suggested – was, in her opinion, a ridiculous possibility. In fact, she wrote calmly, it wasn't a possibility at all. " _The Iranian deserts aren't safe just to wander around! Besides, how on earth would we get there and back? Even if we were adults it'd be hard. What if we can't find one, or they didn't agree to do it? Besides, they sound dangerous. Forget it, Juliet._ "

Admittedly, Jennifer talked a lot of sense. I didn't push it. But still, I couldn't help wondering...

Today it was a Saturday, and the school was almost completely empty, as there was a Quidditch match on: Ravenclaw against Gryffindor. I'd finally found out what Quidditch was. Everyone got  _very_  passionate about it, but it couldn't have interested me less. Once I'd got my balance, I enjoyed swooping about during flying lessons – in nice weather – and pretending I was a bird. But I didn't like going too high or too fast, and would never want to take my hands off the comforting broom handle to grab at flying balls.

I always welcomed the peace inside the castle that came with Quidditch matches; and after breakfast, I made my solitary way back up to Ravenclaw tower, deep in thought about Djinn, and deserts, and deals... But to my surprise the tower was not unoccupied, as it usually was when Ravenclaw were playing. There was one small figure by the fire with a shock of red hair: Hugo Granger-Weasley, his head in a book. He glanced up when I came in, blinking through owlish glasses. Hugo was in all my classes, but I'd never spoken to him before. Come to think of it, he was just as quiet as I was.

"Hi," he said politely, and looked quickly back down at his book, obviously not expecting an answer.

I hesitated. This was the chance to do what I'd done all the rest of the year: retreat to my own corner of the room and do my own thing. But I'd promised Jennifer not to keep doing that, to start talking to some of my fellow students. This opportunity was too obvious to miss.

So, with an effort, I cleared my throat. "Er – hey, Hugo."

He looked up again, surprise all over his freckled face. Evidently I had got myself a reputation. I cast around desperately for something to say.

"So – so you didn't fancy the Quidditch match, either?"

Hugo shook his head, looking guilty. "No, actually I – I really  _hate_  Quidditch," he confessed, then put his hand over his mouth as though he'd said something appalling. That made me smile, and after a moment he grinned bashfully back.

"The thing is," he admitted, in a rush, "all my family love it. Well, not Mum so much, but she kind of follows it too because Dad's such a huge fan. And my Auntie played for the Holyhead Harpies! Well, you probably know that," he said, not boastfully, but in a very resigned sort of voice.

I hadn't expected Hugo to be so talkative, and it eased the knot of anxiety in my stomach a little. Tentatively, I sat down on one of the other fireside sofas. "Um, no, I don't."

Hugo looked very taken aback. "But you must have heard of her. Ginny Potter, right?"

I shook my head.

"But – she was one of the fighters in the Battle of Hogwarts. And she's married to Harry Potter." Despite the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, Hugo clearly expected an immediate "oh!" of understanding. I began to feel stupid.

"I've heard of the Battle of Hogwarts. And I'm pretty sure I've heard Harry Potter mentioned. He fought some dark wizard, right?"

"You  _are_  kidding?" said Hugo, incredulously.

Oh, honestly. It wasn't my fault if I didn't know all the stuff about the wizarding world everyone else took for granted. "Why would I be kidding?" I said grumpily.

But to my surprise, Hugo's face had broken out in a wide grin. "This is brilliant!" he said, obviously delighted. "I hate everyone knowing about my family! Mum and Dad helped Uncle Harry defeat Lord Voldemort. He was a  _massively_  evil wizard who was taking over Britain and killing loads of people. It's rubbish growing up with everyone knowing your parents are heroes. At first the other students were all over me, asking about Mum and Dad and Uncle Harry, you know. But once everyone found out I'm just  _me_ , not  _them_ , they lost interest."

"Oh...that's really horrible for you," I said, no longer irritated, now that I realised why Hugo had been cross-examining me.

Hugo nodded sadly. "Plus,  _all_ my family have been in Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat reckoned I'd be better in Ravenclaw. Mum doesn't mind, but everyone else...well...it's like the Hat just declared publicly that I wasn't like my family, you know. I did try going to Quidditch matches and stuff, Rose and the others wanted me to go today, but I decided I'm not going to bother anymore."

"Good on you," I said, meaning it. "You should just be yourself."

He beamed at me. "What about you – hang on, I'm sat on something," he said, shifting in his seat and frowning. "Oh, I forgot about these. Want one?" He pulled a squashed packet of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans from underneath him and offered it to me.

"Er – no, thanks. I had those once before, they're too weird."

"They aren't that bad. You get to know which colours to avoid. It's kind of a puzzle to work out what's good. Try this one, it's probably just caramel."

Warily, remembering the ones I'd eaten on the train, I tasted the golden bean Hugo offered me. After a moment I smiled broadly, recognising the taste as my favourite dessert.

"Better. Sticky toffee pudding!" I said, happily.

"Oh, wow," Hugo said. "That's a really good one. Ooh, I reckon this might be bacon. Yeah, it is!"

" _Bacon?_ " I said, revolted at the thought of a bacon-flavoured sweet, but Hugo grinned as he chewed it.

"What? I like bacon."

"Yeah, but..."

Picking out beans together, we fell into a silence that I slowly realised wasn't at all awkward. It was – well, it was companionable, and easy. Almost as easy as being with Jennifer. I was quietly amazed. Was making friends really this simple? Or was it just Hugo's unassuming frankness?

"So, obviously you're Muggle-born," said Hugo after a bit, "if you haven't heard much about the Battle of Hogwarts and stuff. What's your family like, then?"

He had been so candid with me, that after hesitating a moment, I decided I would tell him – well, maybe not  _everything_ , but some of it.

"Well...I'm an identical twin, actually."

"Are you, really? I didn't know. Hey, my Uncle George was – oh, um. Sorry, I interrupted." His ears had gone slightly pink.

"That's okay," I said. "What about your uncle?"

"No, no, it doesn't matter. Really. What's your sister called? What house is she in? Hang on..." Hugo was frowning. "We have joint classes with all the other Houses. She's not at Hogwarts, is she?"

"No, that's right," I said, and I pulled out another bean at random, so I could look into the packet instead of at Hugo. Explaining this hadn't got any easier with time. "Jennifer's not a witch."

Hugo's eyes widened as the implications of this sank in. He had a listening face, and looked so sorry for me, it was almost as though it was  _his_  sister I was talking about.

"Oh, no – and you're  _twins –_ that's – that's the worst thing I've ever – hey, don't eat  _that_  one!"

I spat out the shining black bean into my hand just as the acrid flavour coated my tongue.

"Uh-oh. Tar? Charcoal?"

I threw the bean in the fire where it spat and crackled. "Yeah, one of them...gross..."

"I'm really sorry about your sister," said Hugo quietly, after a pause. I gave him a small smile. Somehow sharing the situation with someone so sympathetic made it slightly better. I hesitated. Hugo seemed a nice kid. There was no reason for him to go running to a teacher, was there?

"Can I – can I tell you a secret? You mustn't tell  _anyone_ , though."

"Of course, I'm good at keeping secrets," said Hugo promptly. "Cross my heart and hope to die, Manticores mangle me if I lie."

"Er – okay. Well, I'm trying to find out a way to make Jennifer magic, too. So she can come to Hogwarts."

Hugo stared at me, so astonished he didn't say anything for ages. Eventually he stammered, "But – there's no way to do that, is there?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," I said, defensively. "You can basically do  _everything_ with magic. Why not that?"

"Because – because – I've just never heard of that being a thing, that's all. And I grew up in a wizarding family. I don't mean to be horrible," he said hastily. "I just don't think it's possible. You get Squibs in all wizarding families. They always stay Squibs...it's disappointing, but people just accept it..."

"Well, I don't," I retorted fiercely, and Hugo flinched. "Sorry," I said eventually. "I didn't mean...I just don't see why everyone  _should_  just accept it, that's all. New spells are being discovered all the time, right? I've seen books in the library about recent discoveries...maybe it's difficult, maybe hardly anyone knows how to do it, maybe it's  _never even been done before_. But Jennifer ought to be a witch, if I am, 'cause we're twins, and it's just wrong. More wrong than for just any old Squib! So I'm going to keep looking 'til I find a way."

Hugo was looking at me with mild admiration.

"Well, then," he said simply. "Good on you. I'll let you know, if I hear anything useful."

"Oh – cool – thanks..." Well. Turns out, telling someone wasn't all that bad after all.

"I've got to do my Charms homework," said Hugo, reaching for his schoolbag, which was next to his sofa, and pulling out some parchment. "Want to do it together?"

"Yeah, okay...why not."

Professor Bell had asked us for two feet of parchment on the different uses of Water-Manipulation Charms. Well, there were loads of cool things you could do with water and a wand. Freeze it, turn it to steam, dry it up, increase a trickle to a flood, make stuff repel it, and so on. It would be an interesting essay to write. Our last lesson had mostly focused on flow control. We'd each been given a sink with several plugholes and a tap suspended behind the holes, and we'd had to magically nudge the stream of water into the correct hole.

"The essay's no problem," said Hugo, scratching away easily with his quill. "But last lesson was impossible. I'm only good at theory in Charms, really. It's my worst subject."

Come to think of it, I had noticed Hugo often having minor disasters in Charms. "Didn't you get – er – quite wet, last lesson?"

"Yeah...I was aiming for one of the plugholes and the tap sprayed all over me. Phwhooosh." He gestured expressively with his arms.

"Hmm..." I said. "You must have been too –  _jabby_  – with your wand. You have to be gentle. Look, try it with this."

I brought over one of the jugs of water and a few glasses from the tray that was always on the windowsill of the Common Room. "I'll pour, and you can practise. Aim for the one on the left...just a little nudge over that way...gently...whoops!"

Hugo had muttered the spell and jerked his wand to the left, causing the water to shoot violently in several directions. Everything, including both of us and Hugo's just-started essay, got soaked, and I righted the jug hastily.

"Never mind," I said, performing a useful charm I'd come across in  _The Standard Books of Spells, Grade Three_ , which I'd borrowed from the library. It made hot air stream out of the tip of my wand, and I started quickly drying things. "Er, yeah, it's definitely the way you're moving your wand. It's just a bit...um..."

I hesitated. How did you tell someone tactfully that they performed charms like a robot on steroids? He had the jerkiest wand movements I'd ever seen, and screwed up his face in intense concentration when he said the incantation.

"You're just trying too hard," I said eventually. "You need to relax and not stiffen your arm like that. Just a little, smooth  _flick_!" I demonstrated.

Hugo sighed. "You make it look so easy."

"Go on, have another go," I said encouragingly. "Deep breath first. Keep your arm loose..."

Hugo got slightly better at the Charm over the next twenty minutes. I chatted to him as we practised, partly to stop him tensing up with concentration, but also because I was curious.

"Hey, I'm not going to, you know, judge you on your parents, but what exactly  _was_ the Battle of Hogwarts all about? Obviously it's something I ought to know."

Hugo only overshot the glass by a couple of inches this time, and looked quite pleased with himself.

"Well, yeah," he said, mopping up the spill. "It's like the biggest thing that's happened in wizarding history for years and  _years_. And it wasn't that long ago. Just over twenty years."

"So tell me."

Hugo filled me in. Some of this I'd definitely heard students talk about, but, never really knowing the bigger picture, none of it had made much sense. It turned out it was an epic story with loads of stuff leading up to the battle itself.

"And it's not just my parents who were there, loads of people were," said Hugo. "Professor Longbottom was awesome, he killed Nagini, Lord Voldemort's giant snake, with the sword of Gryffindor..."

"No way?" Professor Longbottom seemed so mild and gentle, with his love of plants. I couldn't imagine him hacking up a snake with a sword.

"Yep. And McGonagall made all the statues come to life and fight the Death Eaters...and Lorcan and Lysander's mum fought too."

I screwed my face up. "I don't like them," I said instantly.

"Yeah, I remember you wouldn't work with them in Herbology, that time," said Hugo, looking at me shrewdly. "So...it's 'cause they're twins, and both here, right?"

"Right."

"Well, that's silly," said Hugo frankly. "It's not their fault, and they're all right. My family are friends with theirs so I hang out with them sometimes. Their mum's brilliant. Their dad's cool, too."

"Yeah, well..." I said, a little mutinously. I wasn't going to give up my feud with the Scamander twins just like that. I didn't care if they were nice. It was just on principle.

Hugo just shrugged, and carried on with his story. I found out the reason we had Professor Bunce as Potions Mistress was because the old Potions Master, who was a brave spy called Severus Snape, had been killed in the battle, along with many others. About fifty, loads of them students...I'd had no idea.

"But there's the big memorial down by the lake," said Hugo. "With all their names on. Haven't you seen it?"

"I've not really explored the grounds. I've been in the library a lot."

"Oh. Well, basically the battle ended 'cause Uncle Harry sacrificed himself for everyone, and everyone was protected 'cause he died, but he didn't really die, and Voldemort became mortal and was killed by his own curse bouncing back on him."

"Er - he didn't really die...?"

"Yeah, I never really understood that part," admitted Hugo. "Mum says she'll explain it properly when I'm older. But basically he won the war."

"Oh. Fair enough."

"Yeah...he's really modest though, never really talks about it. He works for the Ministry now, hunting down dark wizards. Hey, I can ask him and Mum and Dad about what you and your sister are trying to do, if you like? They might have some ideas."

"No," I said quickly. "I don't want loads of people knowing, particularly anyone who works at the Ministry. They might stop me trying."

We'd pretty much stopped practising the charm now, as there was only so many times Hugo could miss the glasses and mop up the resulting wet patch before it got wearing. He was definitely less erratic with his wand movements, though, and the water had even streamed neatly into a glass once, to his delight (though all the others went all over the carpet, so both of us knew it was probably a fluke). We finished off our essays in companionable silence, occasionally discussing an idea with each other.

By the end of the morning, I knew – and it was the weirdest feeling – that Hugo and I were now friends. Jennifer wasn't going to believe it when I told her. And oddly, I didn't feel as bad about it as I'd thought I would. Jennifer had made a whole bunch of friends at Greenhill.

When, with its usual loud creak, the blue Common Room door suddenly swung open, both Hugo and I glanced up, expecting the mass return of either exuberant or despondent Ravenclaws back from the match.

But instead, to my surprise, Professor Vector quietly entered the room, looking at me and Hugo over the top of her glasses with a kindly smile.

"Ah, there you are, Juliet. I saw you weren't at the match...I've been looking for you."


End file.
